"  DUSON   WAS   STONE    DEAD.1 


THE  WORKS  OF 

E.  PHILLIPS 
OPPENHEIM 


THE  YELLOW  CRAYON 


MCKINLAY,  STONE  &  MACKENZIE 

NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1903, 
By  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY. 


Stack 
Annex 


Yellow  Crayon 


CHAPTER    1 


IT  was  late  summer-time,  and  the  perfume  of 
flowers  stole  into  the  darkened  room  through 
the  half  -opened  window.  The  sunlight  forced 
its  way  through  a  chink  in  the  blind,  and 
stretched  across  the  floor  in  strange  zigzag  fashion. 
From  without  came  the  pleasant  murmur  of  bees  and 
many  lazier  insects  floating  over  the  gorgeous 
flower  beds,  resting  for  a  while  on  the  clematis  which 
had  made  the  piazza  a  blaze  of  purple  splendour.  And 
inside,  in  a  high-backed  chair,  there  sat  a  man,  his 
arms  folded,  his  eyes  fixed  steadily  upon  vacancy.  As 
he  sat  then,  so  had  he  sat  for  a  whole  day  and  a 
whole  night.  The  faint  sweet  chorus  of  glad  living 
things,  which  alone  broke  the  deep  silence  of  the 
house,  seemed  neither  to  disturb  nor  interest  him.  He 
sat  there  like  a  man  turned  to  stone,  his  forehead  riven 
by  one  deep  line,  his  straight  firm  mouth  set  close 
and  hard.  His  servant,  the  only  living  being  who  had 
approached  him,  had  set  food  by  his  side,  which  now 
and  then  he  had  mechanically  taken.  Changeless  as 
a  sphinx,  he  had  sat  there  in  darkness  and  in  light, 
whilst  sunlight  had  changed  to  moonlight,  and  the 
songs  of  the  birds  had  given  place  to  the  low  murmur- 
ing of  frogs  from  a  lake  below  the  lawns. 


2          THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

At  last  it  seemed  that  his  unnatural  fit  had  passed 
away.  He  stretched  out  his  hand  and  struck  a  silver 
gong  which  had  been  left  within  his  reach.  Almost 
immediately  a  man,  pale-faced,  with  full  dark  eyes 
and  olive  complexion,  dressed  in  the  sombre  garb  of 
an  indoor  servant,  stood  at  his  elbow. 

"Duson." 

"Your  Grace!" 

"Bring  wine — Burgundy." 

It  was  before  him,  served  with  almost  incred- 
ible despatch — a  small  cobwebbed  bottle  and  a  glass 
of  quaint  shape,  on  which  were  beautifully  embla- 
zoned a  coronet  and  fleur-de-lis.  He  drank  slowly  and 
deliberately.  When  he  set  the  glass  down  it  was 
empty. 

"Duson!" 

"Your  Grace !" 

"You  will  pack  my  things  and  your  own.  We  shall 
leave  for  New  York  this  evening.  Telegraph  to  the 
Holland  House  for  rooms." 

"For  how  many  days,  your  Grace?" 

"We  shall  not  return  here.  Pay  off  all  the  servants 
.save  two  of  the  most  trustworthy,  who  will  remain  as 
caretakers." 

The  man's  face  was  as  immovable  as  his  master's. 

"And  Madame?" 

"Madame  will  not  be  returning.  She  will  have  no 
further  use  for  her  maid.  See,  however,  that  her 
clothes  and  all  her  personal  belongings  remain  abso- 
lutely undisturbed." 

"Has  your  Grace  any  further  orders?" 


THE     YELLOW     CRAYON          3 

"Take  pencil  and  paper.  Send  this  cablegram. 
Are  you  ready?" 

The  man's  head  moved  in  respectful  assent. 

"To  FELIX, 

"No  27,  Rue  de  St.  Pierre, 

"Avenue  de  L'Opera,  Paris. 

"Meet  me  at  Sherry's  Restaurant,  New  York,  one 
month  to-day,  eleven  p.m. — V.  S." 

"It  shall  be  sent  immediately,  your  Grace.  The 
train  for  New  York  leaves  at  seven-ten.  A  carriage 
will  be  here  in  one  hour  and  five  minutes." 

The  man  moved  towards  the  door.  His  master 
looked  up. 

"Duson !" 

"Your  Grace!" 

"The  Due  de  Souspennier  remains  here — or  at 
the  bottom  of  the  lake — what  matters!  It  is  Mr. 
Sabin  who  travels  to  New  York,  and  for  whom  you 
engage  rooms  at  the  Holland  House.  Mr.  Sabin  is  a 
cosmopolitan  of  English  proclivities." 

"Very  good,  sir!" 

"Lock  this  door.  Bring  my  coat  and  hat  five  min- 
utes before  the  carriage  starts.  Let  the  servants  be 
well  paid.  Let  none  of  them  attempt  to  see  me." 

The  man  bowed  and  disappeared.  Left  to  him- 
self, Mr.  Sabin  rose  from  his  chair,  and  pushing  open 
the  windows,  stood  upon  the  verandah.  He  leaned 
heavily  upon  his  stick  with  both  hands,  holding  it 
before  him.  Slowly  his  eyes  travelled  over  the 
landscape. 


4          THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

It  was  a  very  beautiful  home  which  he  was 
leaving.  Before  him  stretched  the  gardens — Italian 
in  design,  brilliant  with  flowers,  with  here  and  there 
a  dark  cedar-tree  drooping  low  upon  the  lawn.  A 
yew  hedge  bordered  the  rose-garden,  a  fountain  was 
playing  in  the  middle  of  a  lake.  A  wooden  fence 
encircled  the  grounds,  and  beyond  was  a  smooth 
rolling  park,  with  little  belts  of  pine  plantations  and 
a  few  larger  trees  here  and  there.  In  the  far  dis- 
tance the  red  flag  was  waving  on  one  of  the  putting 
greens.  Archie  Green  was  strolling  up  the  hillside, 
his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  his  driver  under  his  arm. 
Mr.  Sabin  watched,  and  the  lines  in  his  face  grew 
deeper  and  deeper. 

"I  am  an  old  man,"  he  said  softly,  "but  I  will  live 
to  see  them  suffer  who  have  done  this  evil  thing." 

He  turned  slowly  back  into  the  room,  and  limping 
rather  more  than  was  usual  with  him,  he  pushed 
aside  a  portiere  and  passed  into  a  charmingly  fur- 
nished country  drawing-room.  Only  the  flowers 
hung  dead  in  their  vases;  everything  else  was  fresh 
and  sweet  and  dainty.  Slowly  he  threaded  his  way 
amongst  the  elegant  Louis  Quinze  furniture,  ex- 
amining as  though  for  the  first  time  the  beautiful  old 
tapestry,  the  Sevres  china,  the  Chippendale  table, 
which  was  priceless,  the  exquisite  portraits  painted  by 
Greuze,  and  the  mysterious  green  twilights  and  grey 
dawns  of  Corot.  Everywhere  treasures  of  art,  yet 
everywhere  the  restraining  hand  of  the  artist.  The 
faint  smell  of  dead  rose  leaves  hung  about  the  room. 
'Already  one  seemed  conscious  of  a  certain  emptiness, 


THE     YELLOW     CRAYON  5 

as  though  the  genius  of  the  place  had  gone.  Mr. 
Sabin  leaned  heavily  upon  his  stick,  and  his  head 
drooped  lower  and  lower.  .  .  . 

A  soft,  respectful  voice  came  to  him  from  the  other 
room. 

"In  five  minutes,  sir,  the  carriage  will  be  at  the  door. 
I  have  your  coat  and  hat  here." 

Mr.  Sabin  looked  up. 

"I  am  quite  ready,  Duson !"  he  said. 

*  #  #  #  * 

The  servants  in  the  hall  stood  respectfully  aside  to 
let  him  pass.  On  the  way  to  the  depot  he  saw  nothing 
of  those  who  saluted  him.  In  the  car  he  sat  with 
folded  arms  in  the  most  retired  seat,  looking  stead- 
fastly out  of  the  window  at  the  dying  day.  There 
were  mountains  away  westwards,  touched  with  golden 
light ;  sometimes  for  long  minutes  together  the  train 
was  rushing  through  forests  whose  darkness  was  like 
that  of  a  tunnel.  Mr.  Sabin  seemed  indifferent  to 
these  changes.  The  coming  of  night  did  not  disturb 
him.  His  brain  was  at  work,  and  the  things  which 
he  saw  were  hidden  from  other  men. 

Duson,  with  a  murmur  of  apology,  broke  in  upon  his 
meditations. 

"You  will  pardon  me,  sir,  but  the  second  dinner  is 
now  being  served.  The  restaurant  car  will  be  de- 
tached at  the  next  stop." 

"What  of  it?"  Mr.  Sabin  asked  calmly. 

"I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  ordering  dinner  for 
you,  sir.  It  is  thirty  hours  since  you  ate  anything 
save  biscuits." 


6          THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

Mr.  Sabin  rose  to  his  feet. 

"You  are  quite  right,  Duson,"  he  said.  "I  will 
dine." 

In  half-an-hour  he  was  back  again.  Duson  placed 
before  him  silently  a  box  of  cigarettes  and  matches. 
Mr.  Sabin  smoked. 

Soon  the  lights  of  the  great  city  flared  in  the  sky, 
the  train  stopped  more  frequently,  the  express  men 
and  newspaper  boys  came  into  evidence.  Mr.  Sabin 
awoke  from  his  long  spell  of  thought.  He  bought 
a  newspaper,  and  glanced  through  the  list  of 
steamers  which  had  sailed  during  the  week.  When 
the  train  glided  into  the  depot  he  was  on  his  feet  and 
ready  to  leave  it. 

"You  will  reserve  our  rooms,  Duson,  for  one 
month,"  he  said  on  the  way  to  the  hotel.  We  shall 
probably  leave  for  Europe  a  month  to-morrow." 

"Very  good,  sir." 

"You  were  Mrs.  Peterson's  servant,  Duson,  before 
you  were  mine !" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"You  have  been  with  her,  I  believe,  for  many  years. 
You  are  doubtless  much  attached  to  her !" 

"Indeed  I  am,  sir !" 

"You  may  have  surmised,  Duson,  that  she  has  left 
me.  I  desire  to  ensure  your  absolute  fidelity,  so  I  take 
you  into  my  confidence  to  this  extent.  Your  mistress 
is  in  the  hands  of  those  who  have  some  power  over  her. 
Her  absence  is  involuntary  so  far  as  she  is  concerned. 
It  has  been  a  great  blow  to  me.  I  am  prepared  to 
run  all  risks  to  discover  her  whereabouts.  It  is  late 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON          7 

in  my  life  for  adventures,  but  it  is  very  certain  that 
adventures  and  dangers  are  before  us.  In  accom- 
panying me  you  will  associate  yourself  with  many 
risks.  Therefore " 

Duson  held  up  his  hand. 

"I  beg,  sir,"  he  exclaimed,  "that  you  will  not  sug- 
gest for  a  moment  my  leaving  your  service  on  that 
account.  I  beg  most  humbly,  sir,  that  you  will  not 
do  me  that  injustice." 

Mr.  Sabin  paused.  His  eyes,  like  lightning,  read 
the  other's  face. 

"It  is  settled  then,  Duson,"  he  said.  "Kindly  pay 
this  cabman,  and  follow  me  as  quickly  as  possible." 

Mr.  Sabin  passed  across  the  marble  hall,  leaning 
heavily  upon  his  stick.  Yet  for  all  his  slow  move- 
ments there  was  a  new  alertness  in  his  eyes  and  bear- 
ing. He  was  once  more  taking  keen  note  of  every- 
body and  everything  about  him.  Only  a  few  days 
ago  she  had  been  here. 

He  claimed  his  rooms  at  the  office,  and  handed  the 
keys  to  Duson,  who  by  this  time  had  rejoined  him. 
At  the  moment  of  turning  away  he  addressed  an  in- 
quiry to  the  clerk  behind  the  counter. 

"Can  you  tell  me  if  the  Duchess  of  Souspennier  is 
staying  here?"  he  inquired. 

The  young  man  glanced  up. 

"Been  here,  I  guess.     Left  on  Tuesday." 

Mr.  Sabin  turned  away.  He  did  not  speak  again 
until  Duson  and  he  were  alone  in  the  sitting-room. 
Then  he  drew  out  a  five  dollar  bill. 

"Duson,"  he  said,  "take  this  to  the  head  luggage 


8          THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

porter.  Tell  him  to  bring  his  departure  book  up  here 
at  once,  and  there  is  another  waiting  for  him.  You 
understand?" 

"Certainly,  sir!" 

Mr.  Sabin  turned  to  enter  his  bed-chamber.  His 
attention  was  attracted,  however,  by  a  letter  lying  flat 
upon  the  table.  He  took  it  up.  It  was  addressed  to 
Mr.  Sabin. 

"This  is  very  clever,"  he  mused,  hesitating  for 
a  moment  before  opening  it.  "I  wired  for  rooms 
only  a  few  hours  ago — and  I  find  a  letter.  It  is 
the  commencement." 

He  tore  open  the  envelope,  and  drew  out  a  single 
half-sheet  of  note-paper.  Across  it  was  scrawled 
a  single  sentence  only. 

"Go  back  to  Lenox." 

There  was  no  signature,  nor  any  date.  The  only 
noticeable  thing  about  this  brief  communication  was 
that  it  was  written  in  yellow  pencil  of  a  peculiar  shade. 
Mr.  Sabin's  eyes  glittered  as  he  read. 

"The  yellow  crayon !"  he  muttered. 

Duson  knocked  softly  at  the  door.  Mr.  Sabin  thrust 
the  letter  and  envelope  into  his  breast  coat  pocket. 


CHAPTER   II. 

4  4  Y^~  ~^\  ^^  *s  ^e  ^uSSaSe  porter,  sir,"  Duson 
announced.  "He  is  prepared  to  an- 
swer any  questions." 

The  man  took  out  his  book.  Mr. 
Sabin,  who  was  sitting  in  an  easy-chair,  turned  side- 
ways towards  him. 

"The  Duchess  of  Souspennier  was  staying  here  last 
week,"  he  said.  "She  left,  I  believe,  on  Thursday 
or  Friday.  Can  you  tell  me  whether  her  baggage 
went  through  your  hands?" 

The  man  set  down  his  hat  upon  a  vacant  chair,  and 
turned  over  the  leaves  of  his  book. 

"Guess  I  can  fix  that  for  you,"  he  remarked, 
running  his  forefinger  down  one  of  the  pages. 
"Here  we  are.  The  Duchess  left  on  Friday,  and 
we  checked  her  baggage  through  to  Lenox  by  the 
New  York,  New  Haven  &  Hartford." 

Mr.  Sabin  nodded. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said.  "She  would  probably 
take  a  carriage  to  the  station.  It  will  be  worth  an- 
other ten  dollars  to  you  if  you  can  find  me  the  man 
who  drove  her." 

"Well,  we  ought  to  manage  that  for  you,"  the 
man  remarked  encouragingly.  "It  was  one  of 
Steve  Hassell's  carriages,  I  guess,  unless  the  lady 
took  a  hansom." 


10        THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"Very  good,"  Mr.  Sabin  said.  "See  if  you  can 
find  him.  Keep  my  inquiries  entirely  to  yourself. 
It  will  pay  you." 

"That's  all  right,"  the  man  remarked.  "Don't 
you  go  to  bed  for  half-an-hour,  and  I  guess  you'll 
hear  from  me  again." 

Duson  busied  himself  in  the  bed-chamber,  Mr. 
Sabin  sat  motionless  in  his  easy  chair.  Soon  there 
came  a  tap  at  the  door.  The  porter  reappeared 
ushering  in  a  smart-looking  young  man,  who  carried 
a  shiny  coachman's  hat  in  his  hand. 

"Struck  it  right  fust  time,"  the  porter  remarked 
cheerfully.  "This  is  the  man,  sir." 

Mr.  Sabin  turned  his  head. 

"You  drove  a  lady  from  here  to  the  New  York,  New 
Haven  &  Hartford  Depot  last  Friday  ?"  he  asked. 

"Well,  not  exactly,  sir,"  the  man  answered. 
"The  Duchess  took  my  cab,  and  the  first  address  she 
gave  was  the  New  York,  New  Haven  &  Hartford 
Depot,  but  before  we'd  driven  a  hundred  yards  she 
pulled  the  check-string  and  ordered  me  to  go  to  the 
Waldorf.  She  paid  me  there,  and  went  into  the  hotel." 

"You  have  not  seen  her  since?" 

"No,  sir!" 

"You  knew  her  by  sight,  you  say.  Was  there 
anything  special  about  her  appearance?" 

The  man  hesitated. 

"She'd  a  pretty  thick  veil  on,  sir,  but  she  raised 
it  to  pay  me,  and  I  should  say  she'd  been  crying.  She 
was  much  paler,  too,  than  last  time  I  drove  her." 

"When  was  that?"  Mr.  Sabin  asked. 


THE     YELLOW     CRAYON         11 

"In  the  spring,  sir, — with  you,  begging  your 
pardon.  You  were  at  the  Netherlands,  and  I  drove 
you  out  several  times." 

"You  seem,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "to  be  a  person 
with  some  powers  of  observation.  It  would  pay 
you  very  well  indeed  if  you  would  ascertain  from  any 
of  your  mates  at  the  Waldorf  when  and  with  whom 
the  lady  in  question  left  that  hotel." 

"I'll  have  a  try,  sir,"  the  man  answered.  "The 
Duchess  was  better  known  here,  but  some  of  them  may 
have  recognised  her." 

"She  had  no  luggage,  I  presume?"  Mr.  Sabin 
asked. 

"Her  dressing-case  and  jewel-case  only,  sir." 

"So  you  see,"  Mr.  Sabin  continued,  "it  is  probable 
that  she  did  not  remain  at  the  Waldorf  for 
the  night.  Base  your  inquiries  on  that  supposi- 
tion." 

"Very  good,  sir." 

"From  your  manners  and  speech,"  Mr.  Sabin 
said,  raising  his  head,  "I  should  take  you  to  be  an 
Englishman." 

"Quite  correct,  sir,"  the  man  answered.  "I  drove 
a  hansom  in  London  for  eight  years." 

"You  will  understand  me  then,"  Mr.  Sabin  con- 
tinued, "when  I  say  that  I  have  no  great  confidence 
in  the  police  of  this  country.  I  do  not  wish  to  be 
blackmailed  or  bullied.  I  would  ask  you,  there- 
fore, to  make  your  inquiries  with  discretion." 

"I'll  be  careful,  sir,"  the  man  answered. 

Mr.  Sabin  handed  to  each  of  them  a  roll  of  notes. 


12        THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

The   cabdriver   lingered   upon   the   threshold.       Mr. 
Sabin  looked  up. 

"Well?" 

"Could  I  speak  a  word  to  you — in  private,  sir?" 

Mr.  Sabin  motioned  Duson  to  leave  the  room. 
The  baggage  porter  had  already  departed. 

"When  I  cleaned  out  my  cab  at  night,  sir,  I  found 
this.  I  didn't  reckon  it  was  of  any  consequence  at 
first,  but  from  the  questions  you  have  been  asking  it 
may  be  useful  to  you." 

Mr.  Sabin  took  the  half-sheet  of  note-paper  in 
silence.  It  was  the  ordinary  stationery  of  the 
Waldorf  Astoria  Hotel,  and  the  following  words 
were  written  upon  it  in  a  faint  delicate  handwriting, 
but  in  yellow  pencil: — 

"Sept.  10th. 
"To  LUCILLE,  DTJCHESSE  DE  SOUSPENNIER. — 

"You  will  be  at  the  Waldorf  Astoria  Hotel  in  the 
main  corridor  at  four  o'clock  this  afternoon." 

The  thin  paper  shook  in  Mr.  Sabin's  fingers. 
There  was  no  signature,  but  he  fancied  that  the 
handwriting  was  not  wholly  unfamiliar  to  him.  He 
looked  slowly  up  towards  the  cabman. 

"I  am  much  obliged  to  you,"  he  said.  "This  is  of 
interest  to  me." 

He  stretched  out  his  hand  to  the  little  wad  of 
notes  which  Duson  had  left  upon  the  table,  but  the 
cabdriver  backed  away. 

"Beg  pardon,  sir,"  he  said.  "You've  given  me 
plenty.  The  letter's  of  no  value  to  me.  I  came  very 


THE     YELLOW     CRAYON        13 

near  tearing  it  up,  but  for  the  peculiar  colour  pencil 
it's  written  with.  Kinder  took  my  fancy,  sir." 

"The  letter  is  of  value,"  Mr.  Sabin  said.  "It 
tells  me  much  more  than  I  hoped  to  discover.  It  is 
our  good  fortune." 

The  man  accepted  the  little  roll  of  bills  and  de- 
parted. Mr.  Sabin  touched  the  bell. 

"Duson,  what  time  is  it?" 

"Nearly  midnight,  sir !" 

"I  will  go  to  bed!" 

"Very  good,  sir!" 

"Mix  me  a  sleeping  draught,  Duson.  I  need 
rest.  See  that  I  am  not  disturbed  until  ten  o'clock 
to-morrow  morning." 


CHAPTER    III 

AT  precisely  ten  o'clock  on  the  following 
morning  Duson  brought  chocolate,  which 
he  had  prepared  himself,  and  some  dry 
toast  to  his  master's  bedside.      Upon  the 
tray  was  a  single  letter.      Mr.  Sabin  sat  up  in  bed 
and  tore  open  the  envelope.      The  following  words 
were  written  upon  a  sheet  of  the  Holland  House  note- 
paper  in  the  same  peculiar  coloured  crayon. 

"The  first  warning  addressed  to  you  yesterday  was 
a  friendly  one.  Profit  by  it.  Go  back  to  Lenox. 
You  are  only  exposing  yourself  to  danger  and  the 
person  you  seek  to  discomfort.  Wait  there,  and  some 
one  shall  come  to  you  shortly  who  will  explain  what 
has  happened,  and  the  necessity  for  it." 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled,  a  slow  contemplative  smile.  He 
sipped  his  chocolate  and  lit  a  cigarette. 

"Our  friends,  then,"  he  said  softly,  "do  not  care 
about  pursuit  and  inquiries.  It  is  ridiculous  to 
suppose  that  their  warning  is  given  out  of  any  con- 
sideration to  me.  Duson!" 

"Yes,  sir!" 

"My  bath.      I  shall  rise  now." 

Mr.  Sabin  made  his  toilet  with  something  of  the 
same  deliberation  which  characterised  all  his  move- 


THE     YELLOW     CRAYON         15 

ments.  Then  he  descended  into  the  hall,  bought  a 
newspaper,  and  from  a  convenient  easy-chair  kept  a 
close  observation  upon  every  one  who  passed  to  and 
fro  for  about  an  hour.  Later  on  he  ordered  a  car- 
riage, and  made  several  calls  down  town. 

At  a  few  minutes  past  twelve  he  entered  the  bar 
of  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  and  ordering  a  drink  sat 
down  at  one  of  the  small  tables.  The  room  was  full, 
but  Mr.  Sabin's  attention  was  directed  solely  to  one 
group  of  men  who  stood  a  short  distance  away  before 
the  counter  drinking  champagne.  The  central  per- 
son of  the  group  was  a  big  man,  with  an  unusually 
large  neck,  a  fat  pale  face,  a  brown  moustache  tinged 
with  grey,  and  a  voice  and  laugh  like  a  fog-horn.  It 
was  he  apparently  who  was  paying  for  the  champagne, 
and  he  was  clearly  on  intimate  terms  with  all  the  party. 
Mr.  Sabin  watched  for  his  opportunity,  and  then  ris- 
ing from  his  seat  touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"Mr.  Skinner,  I  believe?"  he  said  quietly. 

The  big  man  looked  down  upon  Mr.  Sabin  with 
the  sullen  offensiveness  of  the  professional  bully. 

"You've  hit  it  first  time,"  he  admitted.  "Who  are 
you,  anyway?" 

Mr.  Sabin  produced  a  card. 

"I  called  this  morning,"  he  said,  "upon  the  gentle- 
man whose  name  you  will  see  there.  He  directed  me 
to  you,  and  told  me  to  come  here." 

The  man  tore  the  card  into  small  pieces. 

"So  long,  boys,"  he  said,  addressing  his  late  com- 
panions. "See  you  to-night." 

They   accepted  his  departure  in  silence,  and  one 


16 

and  all  favoured  Mr.  Sabin  with  a  stare  of  blatant 
curiosity. 

"I  should  be  glad  to  speak  with  you,"  Mr.  Sabin 
said,  "in  a  place  where  we  are  likely  to  be  neither  dis- 
turbed nor  overheard." 

"You  come  right  across  to  my  office,"  was  the 
prompt  reply.  "I  guess  we  can  fix  it  up  there." 

Mr.  Sabin  motioned  to  his  coachman,  and  they 
crossed  Broadway.  His  companion  led  him  into  a 
tall  building,  talking  noisily  all  the  time  about  the  pals 
whom  he  had  just  left.  An  elevator  transported  them 
to  the  twelfth  floor  in  little  more  than  as  many  sec- 
onds, and  Mr.  Skinner  ushered  his  visitor  into  a  some- 
what bare-looking  office,  smelling  strongly  of  stale  to- 
bacco smoke.  Mr.  Skinner  at  once  lit  a  cigar,  and 
seating  himself  before  his  desk,  folded  his  arms  and 
leaned  over  towards  Mr.  Sabin. 

"Smoke  one?"  he  asked,  pointing  to  the  open  box. 

Mr.  Sabin  declined. 

"Get  right  ahead  then." 

"I  am  an  Englishman,"  Mr.  Sabin  said  slowly,  "and 
consequently  am  not  altogether  at  home  with  your 
ways  over  here.  I  have  always  understood,  however, 
that  if  you  are  in  need  of  any  special  information  such 
as  we  should  in  England  apply  to  the  police  for.  over 
here  there  is  a  quicker  and  more  satisfactory  method 
of  procedure." 

"You've  come  a  long  way  round,"  Mr.  Skinner  re- 
marked, spitting  upon  the  floor,  "but  you're  dead 
right." 

"I  am  in  need  of  some  information,"  Mr.  Sabin  con- 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        17 

tinued,  "and  accordingly  I  called  this  morning  on 
Mr. " 

Mr.  Skinner  held  up  his  hand. 

"All  right,"  he  said.  "We  don't  mention  names 
more  than  we  can  help.  Call  him  the  boss." 

"He  assured  me  that  the  information  I  was  in 
need  of  was  easily  to  be  obtained,  and  gave  me  a  card 
to  you." 

"Go  right  on,"  Mr.  Skinner  said.      "What  is  it?" 

"On  Friday  last,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "at  four  o'clock, 
the  Duchess  of  Souspennier,  whose  picture  I  will  pres- 
ently show  you,  left  the  Holland  House  Hotel  for  the 
New  York,  New  Haven  &  Hartford  Depot,  presum- 
ably for  her  home  at  Lenox,  to  which  place  her  bag- 
gage had  already  been  checked.  On  the  way  she  or- 
dered the  cabman  to  set  her  down  at  the  Waldorf-As- 
toria Hotel,  which  he  did  at  a  few  minutes  past  four. 
The  Duchess  has  not  returned  home  or  been  directly 
heard  from  since.  I  wish  to  ascertain  her  movements 
since  she  arrived  at  the  Waldorf." 

"Sounds  dead  easy,"  Mr.  Skinner  remarked  reas- 
suringly. "Got  the  picture?" 

Mr.  Sabin  touched  the  spring  of  a  small  gold 
locket  which  he  drew  from  an  inside  waistcoat 
pocket,  and  disclosed  a  beautifully  painted  miniature. 
Mr.  Skinner's  thick  lips  were  pursed  into  a  whistle. 
He  was  on  the  point  of  making  a  remark  when  he 
chanced  to  glance  into  Mr.  Sabin's  face.  The  remark 
remained  unspoken. 

He  drew  a  sheet  of  note-paper  towards  him  and 
made  a  few  notes  upon  it. 


18        THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"The  Duchess  many  friends  in  New  York?" 

"At  present  none.  The  few  people  whom  she 
knows  here  are  at  Newport  or  in  Europe  just  now." 

"Any  idea  whom  she  went  to  the  Waldorf  to  see? 
More  we  know  the  better." 

Mr.  Sabin  handed  him  the  letter  which  had  been 
picked  up  in  the  cab.  Mr.  Skinner  read  it  through, 
and  spat  once  more  upon  the  floor. 

"What  the  h 's  this  funny  coloured  pencil 

mean  ?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered.  "You  will 
see  that  the  two  anonymous  communications  which  I 
have  received  since  arriving  in  New  York  yesterday 
are  written  in  the  same  manner." 

Mr.  Sabin  handed  him  the  other  two  letters,  which 
Mr.  Skinner  carefully  perused. 

"I  guess  you'd  better  tell  me  who  3*ou  are,"  he  sug- 
gested. 

"I  am  the  husband  of  the  Duchess  of  Souspennier," 
Mr.  Sabin  answered. 

"The  Duchess  send  any  word  home  at  all?"  Mr. 
Skinner  asked. 

Mr.  Sabin  produced  a  worn  telegraph  form.  It 
was  handed  in  at  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York,  at  six 
o'clock  on  Friday.  It  contained  the  single  word  'Good- 
bye.' " 

"H'm,"  Mr.  Skinner  remarked.  "We'll  find  all  you 
want  to  know  by  to-morrow  sure." 

"What  do  you  make  of  the  two  letters  which  I  re- 
ceived?" Mr.  Sabin  asked. 

"Bunkum!"  Mr.  Skinner  replied  confidently. 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        19 

Mr.  Sabin  nodded  his  head. 

"You  have  no  secret  societies  over  here,  I  suppose  ?" 
he  said. 

Mr.  Skinner  laughed  loudly  and  derisively. 

"I  guess  not,"  he  answered.  "They  keep  that  sort 
of  rubbish  on  the  other  side  of  the  pond." 

"All !" 

Mr.  Sabin  was  thoughtful  for  a  moment. 

"You  expect  to  find,  then,"  he  remarked,  "some 
other  cause  for  my  wife's  disappearance?" 

"There  don't  seem  much  room  for  doubt  concern- 
ing that,  sir,"  Mr.  Skinner  said;  "but  I  never  specu- 
late. I  will  bring  you  the  facts  to-night  between 
eight  and  eleven.  Now  as  to  the  business  side  of  it." 

Mr.  Sabin  was  for  a  moment  puzzled. 

"What's  the  job  worth  to  you?"  Mr.  Skinner  asked. 

"I  am  willing  to  pay,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered,  "ac- 
cording to  your  demands." 

"It's  a  simple  case,"  Mr.  Skinner  admitted,  "but 
our  man  at  the  Waldorf  is  expensive.  If  you  get  all 
your  facts,  I  guess  five  hundred  dollars  will  about  see 
you  through." 

"I  will  pay  that,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered. 

"I  will  bring  you  the  letters  back  to-night,"  Mr. 
Skinner  said.  "I  guess  I'll  borrow  that  locket  of 
yours,  too." 

Mr.  Sabin  shook  his  head. 

"That,"  he  said  firmly,  "I  do  not  part  with." 

Mr.  Skinner  scratched  his  ear  with  his  penholder. 

"It's  the  only  scrap  of  identifying  matter  we've 
got,"  he  remarked.  "Of  course  it's  a  dead  simple  case, 


20        THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

and  we  can  probably  manage  without  it.  But  I  guess 
it's  as  well  to  fix  the  thing  right  down." 

"If  you  will  give  me  a  piece  of  paper,"  Mr.  Sabin 
said,  "I  will  make  you  a  sketch  of  the  Duchess. 
The  larger  the  better.  I  can  give  you  an  idea  of  the 
sort  of  clothes  she  would  probably  be  wearing." 

Mr.  Skinner  furnished  him  with  a  double  sheet  of 
paper,  and  Mr.  Sabin,  with  set  face  and  unflinching 
figures,  reproduced  in  a  few  simple  strokes  a  wonderful 
likeness  of  the  woman  he  loved.  He  pushed  it  away 
from  him  when  he  had  finished  without  remark.  Mr. 
Skinner  was  loud  in  its  praises. 

"I  guess  you're  an  artist,  sir,  for  sure,"  he  re- 
marked. "This'U  fix  the  thing.  Shall  I  come  to  your 
hotel?" 

"If  you  please,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered.  "I  shall  be 
there  for  the  rest  of  the  day." 

Mr.  Skinner  took  up  his  hat. 

"Guess  I'll  take  my  dinner  and  get  right  to  work," 
he  remarked.  "Say,  you  come  along,  Mr.  Sabin.  I'll 
take  you  where  they'll  fix  you  such  a  beefsteak  as  you 
never  tasted  in  your  life." 

"I  thank  you  very  much,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "but  I 
must  beg  to  be  excused.  I  am  expecting  some  de- 
spatches at  my  hotel.  If  you  are  successful  this  after- 
noon you  will  perhaps  do  me  the  honour  of  dining 
with  me  to-night.  I  will  wait  until  eight-thirty." 

The  two  men  parted  upon  the  pavement.  Mr. 
Skinner,  with  his  small  bowler  hat  on  the  back  of  his 
head,  a  fresh  cigar  in  the  corner  of  his  mouth,  and 
his  thumbs  in  the  armholes  of  his  waistcoat,  strolled 


THE     YELLOW     CRAYON        21 

along  Broadway  with  something  akin  to  a  smile 
parting  his  lips,  and  showing  his  yellow  teeth. 

"Darned  old  fool,"  he  muttered.  "To  marry  a 
slap-up  handsome  woman  like  that,  and  then  pretend 
not  to  know  what  it  means  when  she  bolts.  Guess  I'll 
spoil  his  supper  to-night." 

Mr.  Sabin,  however,  was  recovering  his  spirits.  He, 
too,  was  leaning  back  in  the  corner  of  his  carriage 
with  a  faint  smile  brightening  his  hard,  stern  face. 
But,  unlike  Mr.  Skinner,  he  did  not  talk  to  himself. 


CHAPTER    IV 

MR.  SABIN,  who  was  never,  for  its  own 
sake,  fond  of  solitude,  had  ordered  din- 
ner for  two  at  eight-thirty  in  the  general 
dining-room.  At  a  few  minutes  previous 
to  that  hour  Mr.  Skinner  presented  himself. 

Mr.  Skinner  was  not  in  the  garb  usually  affected  by 
men  of  the  world  who  are  invited  to  dine  out.  The  long 
day's  exertion,  too,  had  had  its  effect  upon  his  linen. 
His  front,  indeed,  through  a  broad  gap,  confessed  to 
a  foundation  of  blue,  and  one  of  his  cuffs  showed  a 
marked  inclination  to  escape  from  his  wrist  over  his 
knuckles.  His  face  was  flushed,  and  he  exhaled  a 
strong  odour  of  cigars  and  cocktails.  Nevertheless, 
Mr.  Sabin  was  very  glad  to  see  him,  and  to  receive  the 
folded  sheet  of  paper  which  he  at  once  produced. 

"I  have  taken  the  liberty,"  Mr.  Sabin  remarked, 
on  his  part,  "of  adding  a  trifle  to  the  amount  we  first 
spoke  of,  which  I  beg  you  will  accept  from  me  as  a 
mark  of  my  gratitude  for  your  promptness." 

"Sure !"  Mr.  Skinner  answered  tersely,  receiving  the 
little  roll  of  bills  without  hesitation,  and  retreating 
into  a  quiet  corner,  where  he  carefully  counted  and 
examined  every  one.  "That's  all  right!"  he  an- 
nounced at  the  conclusion  of  his  task.  "Come  and 
have  one  with  me  now  before  you  read  your  little 
billet-doux,  eh?" 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        23 

"I  shall  not  read  your  report  until  after  dinner," 
Mr.  Sabin  said,  "and  I  think  if  you  are  ready  that 
we  might  as  well  go  in.  At  the  head-waiter's  sug- 
gestion I  have  ordered  a  cocktail  with  the  jysters,  and 
if  we  are  much  later  he  seemed  to  fear  that  it  might 
affect  the  condition  of  the — I  think  it  was  terrapin, 
he  said." 

Mr.  Skinner  stopped  short.  His  tone  betrayed 
emotion. 

"Did  you  say  terrapin,  sir?" 

Mr.  Sabin  nodded.  Mr.  Skinner  at  once  took  his 
arm. 

"Guess  we'll  go  right  in,"  he  declared.  "I  hate  to 
have  a  good  meal  spoiled." 

They  were  an  odd-looking  couple.  Mr.  Sabin 
quietly  but  faultlessly  attired  in  the  usual  evening 
dinner  garb,  Mr.  Skinner  ill-dressed,  untidy,  un- 
washed and  frowsy.  But  here  at  least  Mr.  Sabin's 
incognito  had  been  unavailing,  for  he  had  stayed  at 
the  hotel  several  times — as  he  remembered  with  an 
odd  little  pang — with  Lucille,  and  the  head-waiter, 
with  a  low  bow,  ushered  them  to  their  table.  Mr. 
Skinner  saw  the  preparations  for  their  repast,  the  oys- 
ters, the  cocktails  in  tall  glasses,  the  magnum  of  cham- 
pagne in  ice,  and  chuckled.  To  take  supper  with  a 
duke  was  a  novelty  to  him,  but  he  was  not  shy.  He 
sat  down  and  tucked  his  serviette  into  his  waistcoat, 
raised  his  glass,  and  suddenly  set  it  down  again. 

"The  boss !"  he  exclaimed  in  amazement. 

Mr.  Sabin  turned  his  head  in  the  direction  which 
his  companion  had  indicated.  Coming  hastily  across 


24        THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

the  room  towards  them,  already  out  of  breath  as 
though  with  much  hurrying,  was  a  thick-set,  powerful 
man,  with  the  brutal  face  and  coarse  lips  of  a  prize- 
fighter ;  a  V-.ird  cropped  so  short  as  to  seem  the  growth 
of  a  few  days  only  covered  his  chin,  and  his  mous- 
tache, treated  in  the  same  way,  was  not  thick  enough 
to  conceal  a  cruel  mouth.  He  was  carefully  enough 
dressed,  and  a  great  diamond  flashed  from  his  tie. 
There  was  a  red  mark  round  his  forehead  where  his 
hat  had  been,  and  the  perspiration  was  streaming  from 
his  forehead.  He  strode  without  hesitation  to  the  table 
where  Mr.  Sabin  and  his  guest  were  sitting,  and  with- 
out even  a  glance  at  the  former  turned  upon  his  myr- 
midon. 

"Where's  that  report?"  he  cried  roughly.  "Where 
is  it?" 

Mr.  Skinner  seemed  to  have  shrunk  into  a  smaller 
man.  He  pointed  across  the  table. 

"I've  given  it  to  him,"  he  said.  "What's  wrong, 
boss?" 

The  newcomer  raised  his  hand  as  though  to  strike 
Skinner.  He  gnashed  his  teeth  with  the  effort  to  con- 
trol himself. 

"You  damned  blithering  idiot,"  he  said  hoarsely, 
gripping  the  side  of  the  table.  "Why  wasn't  it  pre- 
sented to  me  first?" 

"Guess  it  didn't  seem  worth  while,"  Skinner  an- 
swered. "There's  nothing  in  the  darned  thing." 

"You  ignorant  fool,  hold  your  tongue,"  was  the 
fierce  reply. 

The  newcomer  sank  into  a  chair  and  wiped  the  per- 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        2* 

spiration  from  his  streaming  forehead.  Mr.  Sabin 
signalled  to  a  waiter. 

"You  seem  upset,  Mr.  Horser,"  he  remarked  po- 
litely. "Allow  me  to  offer  you  a  glass  of  wine." 

Mr.  Horser  did  not  immediately  reply,  but  he 
accepted  the  glass  which  the  waiter  brought  him, 
and  after  a  moment's  hesitation  drained  its  contents. 
Then  he  turned  to  Mr.  Sabin. 

"You  said  nothing  about  those  letters  you  had  had 
when  you  came  to  see  me  this  morning!" 

"It  was  you  yourself,"  Mr.  Sabin  reminded  him, 
"who  begged  me  not  to  enter  into  particulars.  You 
sent  me  on  to  Mr.  Skinner.  I  told  him  everything." 

Mr.  Horser  leaned  over  the  table.  His  eyes  were 
bloodshot,  his  tone  was  fierce  and  threatening.  Mr. 
Sabin  was  coldly  courteous.  The  difference  between 
the  demeanour  of  the  two  men  was  remarkable. 

"You  knew  what  those  letters  meant !  This  is  a 
plot !  Where  is  Skinner's  report  ?" 

Mr.  Sabin  raised  his  eyebrows.  He  signalled  to  the 
head-waiter. 

"Be  so  good  as  to  continue  the  service  of  my  din- 
ner," he  ordered.  "The  champagne  is  a  trifle  too 
chilled.  You  can  take  it  out  of  the  cooler." 

The  man  bowed,  with  a  curious  side  glance  at 
Horser. 

"Certainly,  your  Grace !" 

Horser  was  almost  speechless  with  anger. 

"Are  you  going  to  answer  my  questions?"  he  de- 
manded thickly. 

"I  have  no  particular  objection  to  doing  so,"  Mr. 


26        THE     YEL-LOW    CRAYON 

Sabin  answered,  "but  until  you  can  sit  up  and  com- 
pose yourself  like  an  ordinary  individual,  I  decline 
to  enter  into  any  conversation  with  you  at  all." 

Again  Mr.  Horser  raised  his  voice,  and  the  glare  in 
his  eyes  was  like  the  glare  of  a  wild  beast. 

"Do  you  know  who  I  am?"  he  asked.  "Do  you 
know  who  you're  talking  to?" 

Mr.  Sabin  looked  at  him  coolly,  and  fingered  his 
wineglass. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I've  a  shocking  memory  for 
names,  but  yours  is — Mr.  Horser,  isn't  it?  I  heard 
it  for  the  first  time  this  morning,  and  my  memory  will 
generally  carry  me  through  four-and-twenty  hours." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Horser  was  no 
fool.  He  accepted  his  defeat  and  dropped  the  bully. 

"You're  a  stranger  in  this  city,  Mr.  Sabin,  and  I 
guess  you  aren't  altogether  acquainted  with  our  ways 
yet,"  he  said.  "But  I  want  you  to  understand 
this.  The  report  which  is  in  your  pocket  has  got 
to  be  returned  to  me.  If  I'd  known  what  I  was 
meddling  with  I  wouldn't  have  touched  your  business 
for  a  hundred  thousand  dollars.  It's  got  to  be  returned 
to  me,  I  say !"  he  repeated  in  a  more  threatening  tone. 

Mr.  Sabin  helped  himself  to  fish,  and  made  a  careful 
examination  of  the  sauce. 

"After  all,"  he  said  meditatively,  "I  am  not 
sure  that  I  was  wise  in  insisting  upon  a  sauce 
piquante.  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Horser.  Please 
do  not  think  me  inattentive,  but  I  am  very  hungry. 
So,  I  believe,  is  my  friend,  Mr.  Skinner.  Will  you 
not  join  us — or  perhaps  you  have  already  dined?" 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        27 

There  was  an  ugly  flush  in  Mr.  Horser's  cheeks,  but 
he  struggled  to  keep  his  composure. 

"Will  you  give  me  back  that  report?" 

"When  I  have  read  it,  with  pleasure,"  Mr.  Sabin 
answered.  "Before,  no !" 

Mr.  Horser  swallowed  an  exceedingly  vicious  oath. 
He  struck  the  table  lightly  with  his  forefinger. 

"Look  here,"  he  said.  "If  3rou'd  lived  in  New  York 
a  couple  of  years,  even  a  couple  of  months,  you 
wouldn't  talk  like  that.  I  tell  you  that  I  hold  the 
government  of  this  city  in  my  right  hand.  I  don't 
want  to  be  unpleasant,  but  if  that  paper  is  not  in  my 
hands  by  the  time  you  leave  this  table  I  shall  have  you 
arrested  as  you  leave  this  room,  and  the  papers  taken 
from  you." 

"Dear  me,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "this  is  serious.  On 
what  charge  may  I  ask  should  I  be  exposed  to  this 
inconvenience  ?" 

"Charge  be  damned!"  Mr.  Horser  answered. 
"The  police  don't  want  particulars  from  me.  When 
I  say  do  a  thing  they  do  it.  They  know  that  if  they 
declined  it  would  be  their  last  day  on  the  force." 

Mr.  Sabin  filled  his  glass  and  leaned  back  in  his 
chair. 

"This,"  he  remarked,  "is  interesting.  I  am 
always  glad  to  have  the  opportunity  of  gaining  an 
insight  into  the  customs  of  different  countries.  I  had 
an  idea  that  America  was  a  country  remarkable  for 
the  amount  of  liberty  enjoyed  by  its  inhabitants.  Your 
proposed  course  of  action  seems  scarcely  in  keeping 
with  this." 


28         THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?  Come,  I've  got  to 
have  an  answer." 

"I  don't  quite  understand,"  Mr.  Sabin  remarked, 
with  a  puzzled  look,  "what  your  official  position  is  in 
connection  with  the  police." 

Mr.  Horser's  face  was  a  very  ugly  sight. 

"Oh,  curse  my  official  position,"  he  exclaimed 
thickly.  "If  you  want  proof  of  what  I  say  you  shall 
have  it  in  less  than  five  minutes.  Skinner,  be  off  and 
fetch  a  couple  of  constables." 

"I  really  must  protest,"  Mr.  Sabin  said.  "Mr. 
Skinner  is  my  guest,  and  I  will  not  have  him  treated 
in  this  fashion,  just  as  the  terrapin  is  coming  in,  too. 
Sit  down,  Mr.  Skinner,  sit  down.  I  will  settle  this 
matter  with  you  in  my  room,  Mr.  Horser,  after  I  have 
dined.  I  will  not  even  discuss  it  before." 

Mr.  Horser  opened  his  mouth  twice,  and  closed 
it  again.  He  knew  that  his  opponent  was  simply 
playing  to  gain  time,  but,  after  all,  he  held  the  trump 
card.  He  could  afford  to  wait.  He  turned  to  a  waiter 
and  ordered  a  cigar.  Mr.  Sabin  and  Mr.  Skinner  con- 
tinued their  dinner. 

Conversation  was  a  little  difficult,  though  Mr. 
Sabin  showed  no  signs  of  an  impaired  appetite. 
Skinner  was  white  with  fear,  and  glanced  every  now 
and  then  nervously  at  his  chief.  Mr.  Horser  smoked 
without  ceasing,  and  maintained  an  ominous  silence. 
Mr.  Sabin  at  last,  with  a  sigh,  rose,  and  lighting  a 
cigarette,  took  his  stick  from  the  waiter  and  prepared 
to  leave. 

"I  fear,   Mr.   Horser,"  he   remarked,   "that   your 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        2$ 

presence  has  scarcely  contributed  to  the  cheerfulness- 
of  our  repast.  Mr.  Skinner,  am  I  to  be  favoured  with 
your  company  also  upstairs?" 

Horser  clutched  that  gentleman's  arm  and  whispered 
a  few  words  in  his  ear.  • 

"Mr.  Skinner,"  he  said,  "will  join  us  presently. 
What  is  your  number?" 

"336,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered.  "You  will  excuse  my 
somewhat  slow  progress." 

They  crossed  the  hall  and  entered  the  elevator.  Mr. 
Horser's  face  began  to  clear.  In  a  moment  or  two 
they  would  be  in  Mr.  Sabin's  sitting-room — alone. 
He  regarded  with  satisfaction  the  other's  slim,  deli- 
cate figure  and  the  Limp  with  which  he  moved.  He 
felt  that  the  danger  was  already  over. 


CHAPTER    V 

UT,  after  all,  things  did  not  exactly  turn 
out  as  Mr.  Horser  had  imagined.  The 
sight  of  the  empty  room  and  the  closed 
door  were  satisfactory  enough,  and  he  did 
not  hesitate  for  a  moment. 

"Look  here,  sir,"  he  said,  "you  and  I  are  going  to 
settle  this  matter  quick.  Whatever  you  paid  Skinner 
you  can  have  back  again.  But  I'm  going  to  have  that 
report." 

He  took  a  quick  step  forward  with  uplifted  hand — 
and  looked  into  the  shining  muzzle  of  a  tiny  re- 
volver. Behind  it  Mr.  Sabin's  face,  no  longer 
pleasant  and  courteous,  had  taken  to  itself  some  very 
grim  lines. 

"I  am  a  weak  man,  Mr.  Horser,  but  I  am  never 
without  the  means  of  self-defence,"  Mr.  Sabin  said 
in  a  still,  cold  tone.  "Be  so  good  as  to  sit  down  in 
that  easy-chair." 

Mr.  Horser  hesitated.  For  one  moment  he  stood 
as  though  about  to  carry  out  his  first  intention. 
He  stood  glaring  at  his  opponent,  his  face  contracted 
into  a  snarl,  his  whole  appearance  hideous,  almost 
bestial.  Mr.  Sabin  smiled  upon  him  contemptu- 
ously— the  maddening,  compelling  smile  of  the  born 
aristocrat. 

"Sit  down!" 


31 

Mr.  Horser  sat  down,  whereupon  Mr.  Sabin  fol- 
lowed suit. 

"Now  what  have  you  to  say  to  me?"  Mr.  Sabin  asked 
quietly. 

"I  want  that  report,"  was  the  dogged  answer. 

"You  will  not  have  it,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered. 
"You  can  take  that  for  granted.  You  shall  not  take 
it  from  me  by  force,  and  I  will  see  that  you  do  not 
charm  it  out  of  my  pocket  by  other  means.  The  infor- 
mation which  it  contains  is  of  the  utmost  possible 
importance  to  me.  I  have  bought  it  and  paid  for  it, 
and  I  shall  use  it." 

Mr.  Horser  moistened  his  dry  lips. 

"I  will  give  you,"  he  said,  "twenty  thousand 
dollars  for  its  return." 

Mr.  Sabin  laughed  softly. 

"You  bid  high,"  he  said.  "I  begin  to  suspect  that 
our  friends  on  the  other  side  of  the  water  have  been 
more  than  ordinarity  kind  to  you." 

"I  will  give  you — forty  thousand  dollars." 

Mr.  Sabin  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"So  much?  After  all,  that  sounds  more  like  fear 
than  anything.  You  cannot  hope  to  make  a  profitable 
deal  out  of  that.  Dear  me !  It  seems  only  a  few 
minutes  ago  that  I  heard  your  interesting  friend,  Mr. 
Skinner,  shake  with  laughter  at  the  mention  of  such 
a  thing  as  a  secret  society." 

"Skinner  is  a  blasted  fool,"  Horser  exclaimed 
fiercely.  "Listen  here,  Mr.  Sabin.  You  can  read 
that  report  if  you  must,  but,  as  I'm  a  living  man. 
you'll  not  stir  from  New  York  if  you  do.  I'll  make 


32        THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

your  life  a  hell  for  you.  Don't  you  understand  that 
no  one  but  a  born  fool  would  dare  to  quarrel  with  me 
in  this  city?  I  hold  the  prison  keys,  the  police  are 
mine.  I  shall  make  my  own  charge,  whatever  I  choose, 
and  they  shall  prove  it  for  me." 

Mr.  Sabin  shook  his  head. 

"This  sounds  very  shocking,"  he  remarked.  "I  had 
no  idea  that  the  largest  city  of  the  most  enlightened 
country  in  the  world  was  in  such  a  sorry  plight." 

"Oh,  curse  your  sarcasm,"  Mr.  Horser  said.  "I'm 
talking  facts,  and  you've  got  to  know  them.  Will 
you  give  up  that  report?  You  can  find  out  all 
there  is  in  it  for  yourself.  But  I'm  going  to  give  it 
you  straight.  If  I  don't  have  that  report  back  un- 
read, you'll  never  leave  New  York." 

Mr.  Sabin  was  genuinely  amused. 

"My  good  fellow,"  he  said,  "you  have  made 
yourself  a  notorious  person  in  this  country  by  dint 
of  incessant  bullying  and  bribing  and  corruption  of 
every  sort.  You  may  possess  all  the  powers  you  claim. 
Your  only  mistake  seems  to  be  that  you  are  too  thick- 
headed to  know  when  you  are  overmatched.  I  have 
been  a  diplomatist  all  my  life,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  rising 
slowly  to  his  feet,  and  with  a  sudden  intent  look  upon 
his  face,  "and  if  I  were  to  be  outwitted  by  such  a  novice 
as  you  I  should  deserve  to  end  my  days — in  New 
York." 

Mr.  Horser  rose  also  to  his  feet.  A  smile  of 
triumph  was  on  his  lips. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "we—     Come  in !     Come  in !" 

The   door  was   thrown   open.       Skinner   and  two 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        33 

policemen  entered.  Mr.  Sabin  leaned  towards  the 
wall,  and  in  a  second  the  room  was  plunged  In  dark- 
ness. 

"Turn  on  the  lights !"  Skinner  shouted. 

"Seize  him !  He's  in  that  corner.  Use  your 
clubs !"  Horser  bawled.  "Stand  by  the  door  one 
of  you.  Damnation,  where  is  that  switch?" 

He  found  it  with  a  shout  of  triumph.  Lights 
flared  out  in  the  room.  They  stared  around  into 
every  corner.  Mr.  Sabin  was  not  there.  Then 
Horser  saw  the  door  leading  into  the  bed-chamber,  and 
flung  himself  against  it  with  a  hoarse  cry  of  rage. 

"Break  it  open !"  he  cried  to  the  policemen. 

They  hammered  upon  it  with  their  clubs. 
Mr.  Sabin's  quiet  voice  came  to  them  from  the  other 
side. 

"Pray  do  not  disturb  me,  gentlemen,"  he  said.  "I 
am  reading." 

"Break  it  open,  you  damned  fools!"  Horser  cried. 

They  battered  at  it  sturdily,  but  the  door  was  a 
solid  one.  Suddenly  they  heard  the  key  turn  in  the 
lock.  Mr.  Sabin  stood  upon  the  threshold. 

"Gentlemen!"  he  exclaimed.  "These  are  my  pri- 
vate apartments.  Why  this  violence?" 

He  held  out  the  paper. 

"This  is  mine,"  he  said.  "The  information  which 
it  contains  is  bought  and  paid  for.  But  if  the  giving 
it  up  will  procure  me  the  privilege  of  your  departure, 
pray  take  it. 

Horser  was  purple  with  rage.  He  pointed  with, 
shaking  fist  to  the  still,  calm  figure. 


34 

"Arrest  him,"  he  ordered.    "Take  him  to  the  cells." 

Mr.  Sabin  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  am  ready,"  he  said,  "but  it  is  only  fair  to  give 
you  this  warning.  I  am  the  Duke  of  Souspennier, 
and  I  am  well  known  in  England  and  France.  The 
paper  which  you  saw  me  hand  to  the  porter  in  the 
hall  as  we  stepped  into  the  elevator  was  a  despatch  in 
cipher  to  the  English  Ambassador  at  Washington, 
claiming  his  protection.  If  you  take  me  to  prison 
to-night  you  will  have  him  to  deal  with  to-morrow." 

Mr.  Horser  bore  himself  in  defeat  better  than  at 
any  time  during  the  encounter.  He  turned  to  the 
constables. 

"Go  down  stairs  and  wait  for  me  in  the  hall,"  he 
ordered.  "You  too,  Skinner." 

They  left  the  room.  Horser  turned  to  Mr.  Sabin, 
and  the  veins  on  his  forehead  stood  out  like  whipcord. 

"I  know  when  I'm  beaten,"  he  said.  "Keep  your 
report,  and  be  damned  to  you.  But  remember  that 
you  and  I  have  a  score  to  settle,  and  you  can  ask  those 
who  know  me  how  often  Dick  Horser  comes  out  under- 
neath in  the  long  run." 

He  followed  the  others.  Mr.  Sabin  sat  down  in  his 
easy-chair  with  a  quiet  smile  upon  his  lips.  Once  more 
he  glanced  through  the  brief  report.  Then  his  eyes 
half  closed,  and  he  sat  quite  still — a  tired,  weary-look- 
ing  man,  almost  unnaturally  pale. 

"They  have  kept  their  word,"  he  said  softly  to  him- 
self, "after  many  years.      After  many  }^ears !" 
***** 

Duson  came  in  to  undress  him  shortly  afterwards. 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        35 

He  saw  signs  of  the  struggle,  but  made  no  comment. 
Mr.  Sabin,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  took  a  phial 
from  his  pocket  and  poured  a  few  drops  into  a  wine- 
glassful  of  water. 

"Duson,"  he  said,  "bring  me  some  despatch  forms 
and  a  pencil." 

"Yes,  sir." 

Mr.  Sabin  wrote  for  several  moments.  Then  he 
placed  the  forms  in  an  envelope,  sealed  it,  and  handed 
it  to  Duson. 

"Duson,"  he  said,  "that  fellow  Horser  is  annoyed 
with  me.  If  I  should  be  arrested  on  any  charge,  or 
should  fail  to  return  to  the  hotel  within  reasonable 
time,  break  that  seal  and  send  off  the  telegrams." 

"Yes,  sir." 

Mr.  Sabin  yawned. 

"I  need  sleep,"  he  said.  "Do  not  call  me  to-morrow 
morning  until  I  ring.  And,  Duson!" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"The  Campania  will  sail  from  New  York  somewhere 
about  the  tenth  of  October.  I  wish  to  secure  the  whole 
of  stateroom  number  twenty-eight.  Go  round  to  the 
office  as  soon  as  they  open,  secure  that  room  if  possible, 
and  pay  a  deposit.  No  other  will  do.  Also  one  for 
yourself." 

"Very  good,  sir." 


CHAPTER    VI 

4  4  F      ~^1  HERE'S  a  lady  inquiring  for  you,  sir 

— just  gone  up  to  your  room  in  the 

elevator,"  the  hotel  clerk  remarked  to 

Mr.  Sabin  as  he  paused  on  his  way 

to  the  door  to  hand  in  his  key.         "Shall  I  send  a  boy 

up?" 

Mr.  Sabin  hesitated. 

"A  lady?"  he  remarked  tentatively. 

The  hotel  clerk  nodded. 

"Yes.  I  didn't  notice  the  name,  but  she  was  an 
Englishwoman.  I'll  send  up." 

"Thank  you,  I  will  return,"  Mr.  Sabin  said.  "If 
I  should  miss  her  on  the  way  perhaps  you  will  kindly 
redirect  her  to  my  rooms." 

He  rang  for  the  elevator,  and  was  swiftly  trans- 
ported to  his  own  floor.  The  door  of  his  sitting-room 
was  open.  Duson  was  talking  to  a  tall  fair  woman, 
who  turned  swiftly  round  at  the  sound  of  his  approach. 

"Ah,  they  found  you,  then !"  she  exclaimed,  coming 
towards  him  with  outstretched  hands.  "Isn't  this  a 
strange  place  and  a  strange  country  for  us  to  meet 
once  more  in?" 

He  greeted  her  gallantly,  but  with  a  certain  reserve, 
of  which  she  was  at  once  aware. 

"Are  there  any  countries  in  the  world  left  which  are 
strange  to  so  great  a  traveller  as  Lady  Muriel  Carey?" 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        37 

he  said.  "The  papers  here  have  been  full  of  your  won- 
derful adventures  in  South  Africa." 

She  laughed. 

"Everything  shockingly  exaggerated,  of  course," 
she  declared.  "I  have  really  been  plagued  to  death 
since  I  got  here  with  interviewers,  and  that  sort  of 
person.  I  wonder  if  you  know  how  glad  I  am  to  see 
you  again?" 

"You  are  very  kind,  indeed,"  he  said.  "Certainly 
there  was  no  one  whom  I  expected  less  to  see  over  here. 
iYbu  have  come  for  the  yacht  races,  I  suppose?" 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  faint  smile  and  raised  eye- 
brows. 

"Come,"  she  said,  "shall  we  lie  to  one  another?  Is 
it  worth  while?  Candour  is  so  much  more  original." 

"Candour  by  all  means  then,  I  beg,"  he  answered. 

"I  have  come  over  with  the  Dalkeiths,  ostensibly  to 
see  the  yacht  races.  Really  I  have  come  to  see  you." 

Mr.  Sabin  bowed. 

"I  am  delightfully  flattered,"  he  murmured. 

"I  don't  exactly  mean  for  the  pleasure  of  gazing 
into  your  face  once  more,"  she  continued.  "I  have 
a  mission !" 

Mr.  Sabin  looked  up  quickly. 

"Great  heavens  !     You,  too !"  he  exclaimed. 

She  nodded. 

"Why  not?"  she  asked  coolly.  "I  have  been  in  it 
for  years,  you  know,  and  when  I  got  back  from  South 
'Africa  everything  seemed  so  terribly  slow  that  I 
begged  for  some  work  to  do." 

"And  they  sent  you  here — to  me?" 


38        THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  "and  I  was  here  also  a  few 
weeks  ago,  but  you  must  not  ask  me  anything  about 
that." 

Mr.  Sabin's  eyebrows  contracted,  his  face  dark- 
ened. She  shrank  a  little  away  from  him. 

"So  it  is  you  who  have  robbed  me  of  her,  then,'* 
he  said  slowly.  "Yes,  the  description  fits  you  well 
enough.  I  ask  you,  Lady  Carey,  to  remember  the 
last  time  when  chance  brought  you  and  me  together. 
Have  I  deserved  this  from  you?" 

She  made  a  little  gesture  of  impotence. 

"Do  be  reasonable!"  she  begged.  "What  choice 
had  I?" 

He  looked  at  her  steadfastly. 

"The  folly  of  women — of  clever  women  such  as 
you,"  he  said,  "is  absolutely  amazing.  You  have  de- 
liberately made  a  slave  of  yourself  " 

"One  must  have  distraction,"  she  murmured. 

"Distraction!  And  so  you  play  at  this  sort  of 
thing.  Is  it  worth  while?" 

Her  eyes  for  a  moment  clouded  over  with  weari- 
ness. 

"When  one  has  filled  the  cup  of  life  to  the  brim  for 
many  years,"  she  said,  "what  remains  that  is  worth 
while?" 

He  bowed. 

"You  are  a  young  woman,"  he  said.  "You  should 
not  yet  have  learned  to  speak  with  such  bitterness.  As 
for  me — well,  I  am  old  indeed.  In  youth  and  age  the 
affections  claim  us.  I  am  approaching  my  second 
childhood." 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        39 

She  laughed  derisively,  yet  not  unkindly. 

"What  folly !"  she  exclaimed. 

"You  are  right,"  he  admitted.  "I  suppose  it  is  the 
fault  of  old  associations." 

"In  a  few  minutes,"  she  said,  smiling  at  him,  "we 
should  have  become — sentimental." 

"I,"    he    admitted,    "was    floundering    already." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"You  talk  as  though  sentiment  were  a  bog." 

"There  have  been  worse  similes,"  he  declared. 

"How  horrid !  And  do  you  know,  sir,  for  all  your 
indignation  you  have  not  yet  even  inquired  after  your 
wife's  health." 

"I  trust,"  he  said,  "that  she  is  well." 

"She  is  in  excellent  health." 

"Your  second  visit  to  this  country,"  he  remarked, 
"follows  very  swiftly  upon  your  first." 

She  nodded. 

"I  am  here,"  she  said,  "on  your  account." 

"You  excite  my  interest,"  he  declared.  "May  I 
know  your  mission  ?" 

"I  have  to  remind  jou  of  your  pledge,"  she  said,  "to 
assure  you  of  Lucille's  welfare,  and  to  prevent  your 
leaving  the  country." 

"Marvellous!"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  slight  mocking 
smile.  "And  may  I  ask  what  means  you  intend  to 
employ  to  keep  me  here  ?" 

"Well,"  she  said,  "I  have  large  discretionary  pow- 
ers. We  have  a  very  strong  branch  over  on  this  side, 
but  I  would  very  much  rather  induce  you  to  stay  here 
without  applying  to  them." 


40        THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

"And  the  inducements?"  he  asked. 

She  took  a  cigarette  from  a  box  which  stood  on  the 
table  and  lit  one. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "I  might  appeal  to  your  hospi- 
tality, might  I  not?  I  am  in  a  strange  country  which. 
you  have  made  your  home.  I  want  to  be  shoy/n  round. 
Do  you  remember  dining  with  me  one  night  at  the- 
Ambassador's?  It  was  very  hot,  even  for  Paris,  and 
we  drove  afterwards  in  the  Bois.  Ask  me  to  dine 
with  you  here,  won't  you  ?  I  have  never  quite  forgot- 
ten the  last  time." 

Mr.  Sabin  laughed  softly,  but  with  undisguised 
mirth. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "this  is  an  excellent  start.  You 
are  to  play  the  Circe  up  to  date,  and  I  am  to  be  be- 
guiled. How  ought  I  to  answer  you  ?  I  do  remember 
the  Ambassador's,  and  I  do  remember  driving  down  the 
Bois  in  your  victoria,  and  holding — I  believe  I  am 
right — your  hand.  You  have  no  right  to  disturb  those 
charming  memories  by  attempting  to  turn  them  into 
bathos." 

She  blew  out  a  little  cloud  of  tobacco  smoke,  and 
watched  it  thoughtfully. 

"Ah!"  she  remarked.  "I  wonder  who  is  better  at 
that,  you  or  I?  I  may  not  be  exactly  a  sentimental 
person,  but  you — you  are  a  flint." 

"On  the  contrary,"  Mr.  Sabin  assured  her  earnestly, 
"I  am  very  much  in  love  with  my  wife." 

"Dear  me !"  she  exclaimed.  "You  carry  originality 
to  quixoticism.  I  have  met  several  men  before  in  my 
life  whom  I  have  suspected  of  such  a  thing,  but  I  never 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        41 

heard  any  one  confess  It.  This  little  domestic  contre- 
temps is  then,  I  presume,  disagreeable  to  you !" 

"To  the  last  degree,"  Mr.  Sabin  asserted.  "So 
much  so  that  I  leave  for  England  by  the  Campania." 

She  shook  her  head  slowly. 

"I  wouldn't  if  I  were  you." 

"Why  not?" 

Lady  Carey  threw  away  the  end  of  her  cigarette, 
and  looked  for  a  moment  thoughtfully  at  her  long 
white  fingers  glittering  with  rings.  Then  she  began 
to  draw  on  her  gloves. 

"Well,  in  the  first  place,"  she  said,  "Lucille  will  have 
no  time  to  spare  for  you.  You  will  be  de  trop  in  de- 
cidedly an  uncomfortable  position.  You  wouldn't  find 
London  at  all  a  good  place  to  live  in  just  now,  even 
if  you  ever  got  there — which  I  am  inclined  to  doubt. 
And  secondly,  here  am  I " 

"Circe !"  he  murmured. 

"Waiting  to  be  entertained,  in  a  strange  country, 
almost  friendless.  I  want  to  be  shown  everything, 
taken  everywhere.  And  I  am  dying  to  see  your  home 
at  Lenox.  I  do  not  think  your  attitude  towards  me 
in  the  least  hospitable." 

"Come,  you  are  judging  me  very  quickly,"  he  de- 
clared. "What  opportunities  have  I  had?" 

"What  opportunities  can  there  be  if  you  sail  by  the 
Campania?" 

"You  might  dine  with  me  to-night  at  least." 

"Impossible !  The  Dalkeiths  have  a  party  to  meet 
me.  Come  too,  won't  you?  They  love  dukes — even 
French  ones." 


42         THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

He  shook  his  head. 

"There  is  no  attraction  for  me  in  a  large  party,"  he 
answered.  "I  am  getting  to  an  age  when  to  make  con- 
versation in  return  for  a  dinner  seems  scarcely  a  fair 
exchange." 

"From  your  host's  point  of  view,  or  yours  ?" 

"From  both !      Besides,  one's  digestion  suffers." 

"You  are  certainly  getting  old,"  she  declared. 
"Come,  I  must  go.  You  haven't  been  a  bit  nice  to 
me.  When  shall  I  see  you  again  ?" 

"It  is,"  he  answered,  "for  you  to  say." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  thoughtfully. 

"Supposing,"  she  said,  "that  I  cried  off  the  yacht 
race  to-day.  Would  you  take  me  out  to  lunch?" 

He  smiled. 

"My  dear  lady,"  he  said,  "it  is  for  Circe  to 
command — and  for  me  to  obey." 

"And  3rou'll  come  and  have  tea  with  me  afterwards 
at  the  Waldorf?" 

"That,"  Mr.  Sabin  declared,  "will  add  still  further 
to  my  happiness." 

"Will  you  call  for  me,  then — and  where  shall  we 
have  lunch,  and  at  what  time?  I  must  go  and  de- 
velop a  headache  at  once,  or  that  tiresome  Dalkeith 
boy  will  be  pounding  at  my  door." 

"I  will  call  for  you  at  the  Waldorf  at  half -past 
one,"  Mr.  Sabin  said.  "Unless  you  have  any  choice, 
I  will  take  you  to  a  little  place  downtown  where  we 
can  imagine  ourselves  back  on  the  Continent,  and 
where  we  shall  be  spared  the  horror  of  green  corn." 

"Delightful,"  she  murmured,  buttoning  her  glove. 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        43 

"Then  you  shall  take  me  for  a  drive  to  Fifth  Avenue, 
or  to  see  somebody's  tomb,  and  my  woman  shall  make 
some  real  Russian  tea  for  us  in  my  sitting-room. 
Really,  I  think  I'm  doing  very  well  for  the  first  day. 
Is  the  spell  beginning  to  work  ?" 

"Hideously,"  he  assured  her.  "I  feel  already 
that  the  only  thing  I  dread  in  life  are  these  two  hours 
before  luncheon." 

She  nodded. 

"That  is  quite  as  it  should  be.  Don't  trouble  to 
come  down  with  me.  I  believe  that  Dalkeith  pere  is 
hanging  round  somewhere,  and  in  view  of  my  head- 
ache perhaps  you  had  better  remain  in  the  background 
for  the  moment.  At  one-thirty,  then !" 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled  as  she  passed  out  of  the  room,  and 
lit  a  cigarette. 

"I  think,"  he  said  to  himself,  "that  the  arrival  of 
Felix  is  opportune." 


CHAPTER    VII 

TlHEY  sat  together  at  a  small  table,  looking 
upon  a  scene  which  was  probably  unique 
in  the  history  of  the  great  restaurant. 
The  younger  man  was  both  frankly  inter- 
ested and  undoubtedly  curious.  Mr.  Sabin,  though 
his  eyes  seemed  everywhere,  retained  to  the  full  extent 
that  nonchalance  of  manner  which  all  his  life  he  had 
so  assiduously  cultivated. 

"It  is  wonderful,  my  dear  Felix,"  he  said,  leisurely 
drawing  his  cigarette-case  from  his  pocket,  "wonder- 
ful what  good  fellowship  can  be  evolved  by  a  kindred 
interest  in  sport,  and  a  bottle  or  so  of  good  champagne. 
But,  after  all,  this  is  not  to  be  taken  seriously." 

"Shamrock  the  fourth !     Shamrock  the  fourth !" 

A  tall  }Toung  American,  his  thick  head  of  hair,  which 
had  once  been  carefully  parted  in  the  middle,  a  little 
dishevelled,  his  hard,  clean-cut  face  flushed  with  en- 
thusiasm, had  risen  to  his  feet  and  stood  with  a  brim- 
ming glass  of  champagne  high  over  his  head.  Almost 
every  one  in  the  room  rose  to  their  feet.  A  college 
boy  sprang  upon  a  table  with  extended  arms.  The 
Yale  shout  split  the  room.  The  very  glasses  on  the 
table  rattled. 

"Columbia!      Columbia  P» 

It  was  an  Englishman  now  who  had  leaped  upon 
a  vacant  table  with  upraised  glass.  There  was  an 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        45 

answering  roar  of  enthusiasm.  Every  one  drank,  and 
every  one  sat  down  again  with  a  pleasant  thrill  of 
excitement  at  this  unique  scene.  Felix  leaned  back  in 
his  chair  and  marvelled. 

"One  would  have  imagined,"  he  murmured,  "that 
America  and  England  together  were  at  war  witlithe. 
rest  of  the  world  and  had  won  a  great  victory.  To 
think  that  this  is  all  the  result  of  a  yacht  race.  It 
is  incredible !" 

"All  your  life,  my  dear  Felix,"  Mr.  Sabin  re- 
marked, "you  have  underrated  the  sporting  in- 
stinct. It  has  a  great  place  amongst  the  impulses 
of  the  world.  See  how  it  has  brought  these  people 
together." 

"But  they  are  already  of  the  same  kin,"  Felix  re- 
marked. "Their  interests  and  aims  are  alike.  Their 
destinies  are  surely  identical." 

Mr.  Sabin,  who  had  lit  his  cigarette,  watched  the 
blue  smoke  curl  upwards,  and  was  thoughtful  for  a 
moment. 

"My  dear  Felix!"  he  said.  "You  are  very,  very- 
young.  The  interests  of  two  great  nations  such  as 
America  and  England  can  never  be  alike.  It  is  the 
language  of  diplomacy,  but  it  is  also  the  language  of 
fools." 

Their  conversation  was  for  the  moment  interrupted 
by  a  fresh  murmur  of  applause,  rising  above  the 
loved  hum  of  conversation,  the  laughter  of  women,  and 
the  popping  of  corks.  A  little  troop  of  waiters  had 
just  wheeled  into  the  room  two  magnificent  models  of 
yachts  hewn  out  of  blocks  of  solid  ice  and  crowned  with 


46        THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

flowers.  On  the  one  were  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  on 
the  other  the  Shamrock  and  Thistle.  There  was  much 
clapping  of  hands  and  cheering.  Lady  Carey,  who 
was  sitting  at  the  next  table  with  her  back  to  them, 
joined  in  the  applause  so  heartily  that  a  tiny  gold 
pencil  attached  to  her  bracelet  became  detached  and 
rolled  unobserved  to  Mr.  Sabin's  side.  Felix  half  rose 
to  pick  it  up,  but  was  suddenly  checked  by  a  quick 
gesture  from  his  companion. 

"Leave  it,"  Mr.  Sabin  whispered.  "I  wish  to  return 
it  myself." 

He  stooped  and  picked  it  up,  a  certain  stealthiness 
apparent  in  his  movement.  Felix  watched  him  in 
amazement. 

"It  is  Lady  Carey's,  is  it  not?"  he  asked. 

"Yes.  Be  silent.  I  will  give  it  back  to  her  pres- 
ently." 

A  waiter  served  them  with  coffee.  Mr.  Sabin  was 
idly  sketching  something  on  the  back  of  his  menu 
card.  Felix  broke  into  a  little  laugh  as  the  man 
retired. 

"Mysterious  as  ever,"  he  remarked. 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled  quietly.  He  went  on  with  his 
sketch. 

"I  do  not  want,"  Felix  said,  "to  seem  impatient,  but 
you  must  remember  that  I  have  come  all  the  way  from 
Europe  in  response  to  a  very  urgent  message.  As  yet 
I  have  done  nothing  except  form  a  very  uncomfortable 
third  at  a  luncheon  and  tea  party,  and  listen  to  a  good 
deal  of  enigmatic  conversation  between  you  and  the 
charming  Lady  Carey.  This  evening  I  made  sure 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        47 

that  I  should  be  enlightened.  But  no!  You  have 
given  me  a  wonderful  dinner — from  you  I  expected 
it.  We  have  eaten  terrapin,  canvas-back  duck,  and 
many  other  things  the  names  of  which  alone  were 
known  to  me.  But  of  the  reason  for  which  you  have 
summoned  me  here — I  know  nothing.  Not  one  word 
have  you  spoken.  I  am  beginning  to  fear  from  your 
avoidance  of  the  subject  that  there  is  some  trouble  be- 
tween you  and  Lucille.  I  beg  that  you  will  set  my 
anxiety  at  rest." 

Mr.  Sabin  nodded. 

"It  is  reasonable,"  he  said.      "Look  here !" 

He  turned  the  menu  card  round.  On  the  back  he 
had  sketched  some  sort  of  a  device  with  the  pencil 
which  he  had  picked  up,  and  which  instead  of  black- 
lead  contained  a  peculiar  shade  of  yellow  crayon.  Fe- 
lix sat  as  though  turned  to  stone. 

"Try,"  Mr.  Sabin  said  smoothly,  "and  avoid  that 
air  of  tragedy.  Some  of  these  good  people  might  be 
curious." 

Felix  leaned  across  the  table.  He  pointed  to  the 
menu  card. 

"What  does  that  mean?"  he  muttered. 

Mr.  Sabin  contemplated  it  himself  thoughtfully. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  rather  thought  that  you  might 
be  able  to  explain  that  to  me.  I  have  an  idea  that 
there  is  a  society  in  Europe — sort  of  aristocratic  odd- 
fellows, you  know — who  had  adopted  it  for  their 
crest.  Am  I  not  right?" 

Felix  looked  at  him  steadfastly. 

"Tell  me  two  things,"  he  said.      "First,  why  you 


48        THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

sent  for  me,  and  secondly,  what  do  you  mean — by 
that?" 

"Lucille,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "has  been  taken  away 
from  me." 

"Lucille!      Great  God!" 

"She  has  been  taken  away  from  me,"  Mr.  Sabin  said, 
"without  a  single  word  of  warning." 

Felix  pointed  to  the  menu  card. 

"By  them?"  he  asked. 

"By  them.  It  was  a  month  ago.  Two  days  before 
my  cable." 

Felix  was  silent  for  several  moments.  He  had  not 
the  self-command  of  his  companion,  and  he  feared  to 
trust  himself  to  speech. 

"She  has  been  taken  to  Europe,"  Mr.  Sabin  con- 
tinued. "I  do  not  know,  I  cannot  even  guess  at  the 
reason.  She  left  no  word.  I  have  been  warned  not 
to  follow  her." 

"You  obey?" 

"I  sail  to-morrow." 

"And  I?"  Felix  asked. 

Mr.  Sabin  looked  for  a  moment  at  the  drawing  on 
the  back  of  the  menu  card,  and  up  at  Felix.  Felix 
shook  his  head. 

"You  must  know,"  he  said,  "that  I  am  power- 
less." 

"You  may  be  able  to  help  me,"  Mr.  Sabin  said, 
"without  compromising  yourself." 

"Impossible !"  Felix  declared.  "But  what  did  they 
want  with  Lucille?" 

"That,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "is  what  I  am  desirous  of 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        49 

knowing.  It  is  what  I  trust  that  you,  my  dear  Felix, 
may  assist  me  to  discover." 

"You  are  determined,  then,  to  follow  her?" 

Mr.  Sabin  helped  himself  to  a  liqueur  from  the  bottle 
by  his  side. 

"My  dear  Felix,"  he  said  reproachfully,  "you  should 
know  me  better  than  to  ask  me  such  a  question." 

Felix  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair. 

"Of  course,"  he  said,  "it  depends  upon  how  much 
they  want  to  keep  you  apart.  But  you  know  that  you 
are  running  great  risks?" 

"Why,  no,"  Mr.  Sabin  said.  "I  scarcely  thought 
that.  I  have  understood  that  the  society  was  by  no 
means  in  its  former  flourishing  condition." 

Felix  laughed  scornfully. 

"They  have  never  been,"  he  answered,  "richer  or 
more  powerful.  During  the  last  twelve  months  they 
have  been  active  in  every  part  of  Europe." 

Mr.  Sabin's  face  hardened. 

"Very  well!"  he  said.  "We  will  try  their 
strength." 

"We!"  Felix  laughed  shortly.  "You  forget  that 
my  hands  are  tied.  I  cannot  help  you  or  Lucille.  You 
must  know  that." 

"You  cannot  interfere  directly,"  Mr.  Sabin  ad" 
mitted.  "Yet  you  are  Lucille's  brother,  and  I  am 
forced  to  appeal  to  you.  If  you  will  be  my  com- 
panion for  a  little  while  I  think  I  can  show  you  how 
you  can  help  Lucille  at  any  rate,  and  yet  run  no  risk." 

The  little  party  at  the  next  table  were  breaking 
up  at  last.  Lady  Carey,  pale  and  bored,  with  tired, 


50         THE     YELLOW     CRAYON 

swollen  eyes — they  were  always  a  little  prominent — 
rose  languidly  and  began  to  gather  together  her  be- 
longings. As  she  did  so  she  looked  over  the  back 
of  her  chair  and  met  Mr.  Sabin's  eyes.  He  rose  at 
once  and  bowed.  She  cast  a  quick  sidelong  glance  at 
her  companions,  which  he  at  once  understood. 

"  I  have  the  honour,  Lady  Carey,"  he  said,  "of  re- 
calling myself  to  your  recollection.  We  met  in  Paris 
and  London  not  so  very  many  years  ago.  You  per- 
haps remember  the  cardinal's  dinner?" 

A  slight  smile  flickered  upon  her  lips.  The  man's 
adroitness  always  excited  her  admiration. 

"I  remember  it  perfectly,  and  you,  Duke,"  she  an- 
swered. "Have  you  made  your  home  on  this  side  of 
the  water?" 

Mr.  Sabin  shook  his  head  slowly. 

"Home!"  he  repeated.  "Ah,  I  was  always  a  bird 
of  passage,  you  remember.  Yet  I  have  spent  three 
very  delightful  years  in  this  country." 

"And  I,"  she  said,  lowering  her  tone  and  leaning 
towards  him,  "one  very  stupid,  idiotic  da}T." 

Mr.  Sabin  assumed  the  look  of  a  man  who  denies  any 
personal  responsibility  in  an  unfortunate  happening. 

"It  was  regrettable,"  he  murmured,  "but  I  assure 
you  that  it  was  unavoidable.  Lucille's  brother  must 
have  a  certain  claim  upon  me,  and  it  was  his  first  day 
in  America." 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  she  turned 
abruptly  towards  the  door.  Her  friends  were  already 
on  the  way. 

"Come  with  me,"  she  said.  "I  want  to  speak  to  you." 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        51 

He  followed  her  out  into  the  lobb}'.  Felix  came 
a  few  paces  behind.  The  restaurant  was  still  full  of 
people,  the  hum  of  conversation  almost  drowning  the 
music.  Every  one  glanced  curiously  at  Lady  Carey, 
who  was  a  famous  woman.  She  carried  herself  with 
a  certain  insolent  indifference,  the  national  deportment 
of  her  sex  and  rank.  The  women  whispered  together 
that  she  was  "very  English." 

In  the  lobby  she  turned  suddenly  upon  Mr.  Sabin. 

"Will  you  take  me  back  to  my  hotel?"  she  asked 
pointedly. 

"I  regret  that  I  cannot,"  he  answered.  "I  have 
promised  to  show  Felix  some  of  the  wonders  of  New 
York  by  night." 

"You  can  take  him  to-morrow." 

"To-morrow,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "he  leaves  for  the 
West." 

She  looked  closely  into  his  impassive  face. 

"I  suppose  that  you  are  lying,"  she  said  shortly. 

"Your  candour,"  he  answered  coldly,  "sometimes 
approaches  brutality." 

She  leaned  towards  him,  her  face  suddenly  softened. 

"We  are  playing  a  foolish  game  with  one  another," 
she  murmured.  "I  offer  you  an  alliance,  my  friend- 
ship, perhaps  my  help." 

"What  can  I  do,"  he  answered  gravely,  "save  be 
grateful — and  accept  ?" 

"Then " 

She  stopped  short.  It  was  Mr.  Sabin's  luck  which 
had  intervened.  Herbert  Dalkeith  stood  at  her 
elbow. 


52         THE     YELLOW     CRAYON 

"Lady  Carey,"  he  said,  "they're  all  gone  but  the 
mater  and  I.  Forgive  my  interrupting  you,"  he  added 
hastily. 

"You  can  go  on,  Herbert,"  she  added.  "The  Due 
de  Souspennier  will  bring  me." 

Mr.  Sabin,  who  had  no  intention  of  doing  any- 
thing of  the  sort,  turned  towards  the  young  man  with 
a  smile. 

"Lady  Carey  has  not  introduced  us,"  he  said, 
""but  I  have  seen  you  at  Ranelagh  quite  often.  If 
you  are  still  keen  on  polo  you  should  have  a  try  over 
here.  I  fancy  you  would  find  that  these  American 
youngsters  can  hold  their  own.  All  right,  Felix,  I 
am  ready  now.  Lady  Carey,  I  shall  do  myself  the 
honour  of  waiting  upon  you  early  to-morrow  morning, 
as  I  have  a  little  excursion  to  propose.  Good-night." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  ever  so  slightly  as  she 
turned  away.  Mr.  Sabin  smiled — faintly  amused.  He 
turned  to  Felix. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "we  have  no  time  to  lose." 


I 


CHAPTER    VIII 

4  4  T  REGRET,"  Mr.  Sabin  said  to  Felix  as 
they  sat  side  by  side  in  the  small  coupe, 
"that  3rour  stay  in  this  country  will  be  so 
brief." 

"Indeed,"  Felix  answered.  "May  I  ask  what  you 
call  brief?" 

Mr.  Sabin  looked  out  of  the  carriage  window. 

"We  are  already,"  he  said,  "on  the  way  to  Eng- 
land." 

Felix  laughed. 

"This,"  he  said,  "is  like  old  times." 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled. 

"The  system  of  espionage  here,"  he  remarked,  "is 
painfully  primitive.  It  lacks  finesse  and  judgment. 
The  fact  that  I  have  taken  expensive  rooms  on  the 
Campania,  and  that  I  have  sent  many  packages  there, 
that  my  own  belongings  are  still  in  my  rooms  un- 
touched, seems  to  our  friends  conclusive  evidence  that 
I  am  going  to  attempt  to  leave  America  by  that  boat. 
They  have,  I  believe,  a  warrant  for  my  arrest  on  some 
ridiculous  charge  which  they  intend  to  present  at 
the  last  moment.  They  will  not  have  the  oppor- 
tunity." 

"But  there  is  no  other  steamer  sailing  to-morrow,  is 
there?"  Felix  asked. 

"Not  from  New  York,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered,  "but 


54        THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

it  was  never  my  intention  to  sail  from  New  York. 
We  are  on  our  way  to  Boston  now,  and  we  sail 
in  the  Saxonia  at  six  o'clock  to-morrow  morn- 
ing." 

"We  appear  to  be  stopping  at  the  Waldorf,"  Felix 
remarked. 

"It  is  quite  correct,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered.  "Fol- 
low me  through  the  hall  as  quickly  as  possible. 
There  is  another  carriage  waiting  at  the  other  en- 
trance, and  I  expect  to  find  in  it  Duson  and  my  dress- 
ing-case." 

They  alighted  and  made  their  way  through  the 
crowded  vestibules.  At  the  Thirty-fourth  Street  en- 
trance a  carriage  was  drawn  up.  Duson  was  standing 
upon  the  pavement,  his  pale,  nervous  face  whiter  than 
ever  under  the  electric  light.  Mr.  Sabin  stopped 
short. 

"Felix,"  he  said,  "one  word.  If  by  any  chance 
things  have  gone  wrong  they  wrill  not  have  made  any 
arrangements  to  detain  you.  Catch  the  midnight  train 
to  Boston  and  embark  on  the  Saxonia.  There  will  be 
a  cable  for  you  at  Liverpool.  But  the  moment  you 
leave  me  send  this  despatch." 

Felix  nodded  and  put  the  crumpled-up  piece  of 
paper  in  his  pocket.  The  two  men  passed  on.  Duson 
took  off  his  hat,  but  his  fingers  were  trembling.  The 
carriage  door  was  opened  and  a  tall,  spare  man  de- 
scended. 

"This  is  Mr.  Sabin  ?"  he  remarked. 

Mr.  Sabin  bowed. 

"That  is  my  name,"  he   admitted,   "by  which  I 


55 

have  been  generally  called  in  this  democratic  country. 
What  is  your  business  with  me?" 

"I  rather  guess  that  you're  my  prisoner,"  the  man 
answered.  "If  you'll  step  right  in  here  we  can  get 
awa3T  quietly." 

"The  suggestion,"  Mr.  Sabin  remarked,  "sounds  in- 
viting, but  I  am  somewhat  pressed  for  time.  Might 
I  inquire  the  nature  of  the  charge  you  have  against 
me?" 

"They'll  tell  you  that  at  the  office,"  the  man  an- 
swered. "Get  in,  please." 

Mr.  Sabin  looked  around  for  Felix,  but  he  had  dis- 
appeared. He  took  out  his  cigarette-case. 

"You  will  permit  me  first  to  light  a  cigarette,"  he 
remarked. 

"All  right !     Only  look  sharp." 

Mr.  Sabin  kept  silence  in  the  carriage.  The  drive 
was  a  long  one.  When  they  descended  he  looked  up 
at  Duson,  who  sat  upon  the  box. 

"Duson,'''  .;e  said,  and  his  voice,  though  low,  was 
terrible,  "I  £.••-.  that  I  can  be  mistaken  in  men.  You 
are  a  villain  " 

The  man  sprung  to  his  feet,  hat  in  hand.  His  face 
was  wrung  with  emotion. 

"Your  Grace,"  he  said,  "it  is  true  that  I  betrayed 
you.  But  I  did  it  without  reward.  I  am  a  ruined 
man.  I  did  it  because  the  orders  which  came  to  me 
were  such  as  I  dare  not  disobey.  Here  are  your 
keys,  your  Grace,  and  money." 

Mr.  Sabin  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"You,  too,  Duson?" 


56        THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"I  too,  alas,  your  Grace !" 

Mr.  Sabin  considered  for  a  moment. 

"Duson,"  he  said,  "I  retain  you  in  my  service.  Take 
my  luggage  on  board  the  Campania  to-morrow  after- 
noon, and  pay  the  bill  at  the  hotel.  I  shall  join  you 
on  the  boat." 

Duson  was  amazed.  The  man  who  was  standing 
by  laughed. 

"If  you  take  my  advice,  sir,"  he  remarked,  "you'll 
order  your  clothes  to  be  sent  here.  I've  a  kind  of 
fancy  the  Campania  will  sail  without  you  to-mornrv." 

"You  have  my  orders,  Duson,"  Mr.  Sabin  said. 
"You  can  rely  upon  seeing  me." 

The  detective  led  the  way  into  the  building,  and 
opened  the  door  leading  into  a  large,  barely  furnished 
office. 

"Chief's  gone  home  for  the  night,  I  guess,"  he 
remarked.  "We  can  fix  up  a  shakedown  for  j*ou  in 
one  of  the  rooms  behind." 

"I  thank  you,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  sittmg  down  in  a 
high-backed  wooden  chair;  "I  decline  ';o  move  until 
the  charge  against  me  is  properly  explored." 

"There  is  no  one  here  to  do  it  just  now,"  the  man 
answered.  Better  make  yourself  comfortable  for  a 
bit." 

"You  detain  me  here,  then,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "with- 
out even  a  sight  of  your  warrant  or  any  intimation  as 
to  the  charge  against  me?" 

"Oh,  the  chief'll  fix  all  that,"  the  man  answered. 
"Don't  you  worry." 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled. 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON        57 

"It  will  not  be  I,"  he  said,  "who  will  do  the  worrying 
presently." 

***** 

In  a  magnificently  furnished  apartment  somewhere 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Fifth  Avenue  a  small  party 
of  men  were  seated  round  a  card  table  piled  with 
chips  and  rolls  of  bills.  On  the  sideboard  there  was  a 
great  collection  of  empty  bottles,  spirit  decanters  and 
Vichy  syphons.  Mr.  Horser  was  helping  himself  to 
brand}'  and  water  with  one  hand  and  holding  himself 
up  with  the  other.  There  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

A  man  who  was  still  playing  looked  up.  He  was 
about  fifty  years  of  age,  clean  shaven,  with  vacuous 
eyes  and  a  weak  mouth.  He  was  the  host  of  the 
party. 

"Come  in!"  he  shouted. 

A  young  man  entered  in  a  long  black  overcoat  and 
soft  hat.  He  looked  about  him  without  surprise,  but 
he  seemed  to  note  Mr.  Horser's  presence  with  some  con- 
cern. The  man  at  the  table  threw  down  his  cards. 

"What  the  devil  do  you  want,  Smith?" 

"An  important  despatch  from  Washington  has  just 
arrived,  sir.  I  have  brought  it  up  with  the  code- 
book." 

"From  Washington  at  this  time  of  the  night,"  he 
exclaimed  thickly.  "Come  in  here,  Smith." 

He  raised  the  curtains  leading  into  a  small  ante- 
room, and  turned  up  the  electric  light.  His  clerk 
laid  the  message  down  on  the  table  before  him. 

"Here  is  the  despatch,  Mr.  Mace,"  he  said,  "and 
here  is  the  translation." 


58         THE     YELLOW     CRAYON 

"English  Ambassador  demands  immediate  expla- 
nation of  arrest  of  Duke  Souspennier  at  Waldorf  to- 
night. Reply  immediately  what  charge  and  evidence. 
Souspennier  naturalised  Englishman." 

Mr.  Mace  sprang  to  his  feet  with  an  oath.  He 
threw  aside  the  curtain  which  shielded  the  room  from 
the  larger  apartment. 

"Horser,  come  here,  you  damned  fool!" 

Horser,  with  a  stream  of  magnificent  invectives, 
obeyed  the  summons.  His  host  pointed  to  the  mes- 
sage. 

"Read  that !" 

Mr.  Horser  read  and  his  face  grew  even  more  re- 
pulsive. A  dull  purple  flush  suffused  his  cheeks,  his 
eyes  were  bloodshot,  and  the  veins  on  his  forehead  stood 
out  like  cords.  He  leaned  for  several  moments  against 
the  table  and  steadily  cursed  Mr.  Sabin,  the.  govern- 
ment at  Washington,  and  something  under  his  breath 
which  he  did  not  dare  to  name  openly. 

"Oh,  shut  up!"  his  host  said  at  last.  "How  the 
devil  are  we  going  to  get  out  of  this  ?" 

Mr.  Horser  left  the  room  and  returned  with  a  tum- 
bler full  of  brandy  and  a  very  little  water. 

"Take  a  drink  yourself,"  he  said.  "It'll  steady 
you." 

"Oh,  I'm  steady  enough,"  Mr.  Mace  replied  impa- 
tiently. "I  want  to  know  how  you're  going  to  get 
us  out  of  this.  What  was  the  charge,  anyhow?" 

"Passing  forged  bills,"  Horser  answered.  "Par- 
sons fixed  it  up." 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON        59 

Mr.  Mace  turned  a  shade  paler. 

"Where  the  devil's  the  sense  in  a  charge  like 
that?"  he  answered  fiercely.  "The  man's  a 
millionaire.  He'll  turn  the  tables  on  us  nicely." 

"We've  got  to  keep  him  till  after  the  Campania 
sails,  anyhow,"  Horser  said  doggedly. 

"We're  not  going  to  keep  him  ten  minutes," 
Mace  replied.  "I'm  going  to  sign  the  order  for  his 
release." 

Horser's  speech  was  thick  with  drunken  fury. 

"By  ,  I'll  see  that  you  don't!"  he  exclaimed. 

Mace  turned  upon  him  angrily. 

"You  selfish  fool!"  he  muttered.  "You're  not  in 
the  thing,  anyhow.  If  you  think  I'm  going  to  risk 
my  position  for  the  sake  of  one  little  job  you're  wrong. 
I  shall  go  down  myself  and  release  him,  with  an  apol- 

ogy." 

"He'll  have  his  revenge  all  the  same,"  Horser 
answered.  "It's  too  late  now  to  funk  the  thing.  They 
can't  budge  you.  We'll  see  to  that.  We  hold  New 
York  in  our  hands.  Be  a  man,  Mace,  and  run  a  little 
risk.  It's  fifty  thousand." 

Mace  looked  up  at  him  curiously. 

"What  do  you  get  out  of  it,  Horser?" 

Horser's  face  hardened. 

"Not  one  cent !"  he  declared  fiercely.  "Only  if  I  fail 
it  might  be  unpleasant  for  me  next  time  I  crossed." 

"I  don't  know!"  Mace  declared  weakly.  "I  don't 
know  what  to  do.  It's  twelve  hours,  Horser,  and  the 
charge  is  ridiculous." 

"You  have  me  behind  you." 


60         THE     YELLOW     CRAYON 

"I  can't  tell  them  that  at  Washington,"  Mace  said. 

"It's  a  fact,  all  the  same.  Don't  be  so  damned 
nervous." 

Mace  dismissed  his  clerk,  and  found  his  other 
guests,  too,  on  the  point  of  departure.  But  the  last 
had  scarcely  left  before  a  servant  entered  with  an- 
other despatch. 

"Release  Souspennier." 

Mace  handed  it  to  his  companion. 

"This  settles  it,"  he  declared.  "I  shall  go  round 
and  try  and  make  my  peace  with  the  fellow." 

Horser  stood  in  the  way,  burly,  half-drunk  and 
vicious.  He  struck  his  host  in  the  face  with  clenched 
fist.  Mace  went  down  with  scarcely  a  groan.  A 
servant,  hearing  the  fall,  came  hurrying  back. 

"Your  master  is  drunk  and  he  has  fallen  down," 
Horser  said.  "Put  him  to  bed — give  him  a  sleeping 
draught  if  you've  got  one." 

The  servant  bent  over  the  unconscious  man. 

"Hadn't  I  better  fetch  a  doctor,  sir?"  he  asked. 
"I'm  afraid  he's  hurt." 

"Not  he !"  Horser  answered  contemptuously.  "He's 
cut  his  cheek  a  little,  that's  all.  Put  him  to  bed.  Say 
I  shall  be  round  again  by  nine  o'clock." 

Horser  put  on  his  coat  and  left  the  house.  The 
morning  sunlight  was  flooding  the  streets.  Away 
down  town  Mr.  Sabin  was  dozing  in  his  high-backed 
chair. 


CHAPTER    IX 


^  ELIX,  after  an  uneventful  voyage,  landed 

•__^  duly  at  Liverpool.  To  his  amazement  the 
first  person  he  saw  upon  the  quay  was  Mr. 
Sabin,  leaning  upon  his  stick  and  smoking 
a  cigarette. 

"Come,  come,  Felix !"  he  exclaimed.  "Don't  look  at 
me  as  though  I  were  a  ghost.  You  have  very  little 
confidence  in  me,  after  all,  I  see." 

"But — how  did  you  get  here?" 

"The  Campania,  of  course.  I  had  plenty  of  time. 
It  was  easy  enough  for  those  fellows  to  arrest  me,  but 
they  never  had  a  chance  of  holding  me." 

"But  how  did  you  get  away  in  time?" 

Mr.  Sabin  sighed. 

"It  was  very  simple,"  he  said.  "One  day,  while 
one  of  those  wonderful  spies  was  sleeping  on  my  door- 
mat I  slipped  away  and  went  over  to  Washington,  sa\\t 
the  English  Ambassador,  convinced  him  of  my  bona- 
fides,  told  him  very  nearly  the  whole  truth.  He  prom- 
ised if  I  wired  him  that  I  was  arrested  to  take  my  case 
up  at  once.  You  sent  the  despatch,  and  he  kept  his 
word.  I  breakfasted  on  Saturday  morning  at  the 
Waldorf,  and  though  a  great  dray  was  driven  into 
my  carriage  on  the  way  to  the  boat,  I  escaped,  as  I 
always  do — and  here  I  am." 


62        THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"Unhurt!"  Felix  remarked  with  a  smile,  "ac 
usual!" 

Mr.  Sabin  nodded. 

"The  driver  of  my  carriage  was  killed,  and  Duson 
had  his  arm  broken,"  he  said.  "I  stepped  out  of  the 
debris  without  a  scratch.  Come  into  the  Customs 
House  now  and  get  your  baggage  through.  I  have 
taken  a  coupe  on  the  special  train  and  ordered, 
lunch." 

Before  long  they  were  on  the  way  to  London. 
Mr.  Sabin,  whilst  luncheon  was  being  served,  talked 
only  of  the  lightest  matters.  But  afterwards,  when 
coffee  was  served  and  he  had  lit  a  cigarette,  he  leaned 
over  towards  Felix. 

"Felix,"  he  said,  "your  sister  is  dear  to  you  ?" 

"She  is  the  only  creature  on  earth,"  Felix  said, 
"whom  I  care  for.  She  is  very  dear  to  me,  indeed." 

"Am  I  right,"  Mr.  Sabin  asked,  "in  assuming  that 
the  old  enmity  between  us  is  dead,  that  the  last  few 
years  has  wiped  away  the  old  soreness?" 

"Yes,"  Felix  answered.  "I  know  that  she  was 
happy  with  you.  That  is  enough  for  me." 

"You  and  I,"  Mr.  Sabin  continued,  "must  work 
out  her  salvation.  Do  not  be  afraid  that  I  am 
going  to  ask  you  impossibilities.  I  know  that  our 
ways  must  lie  apart.  You  can  go  to  her  at  once. 
It  may  be  many,  many  months  before  I  can  catch 
even  a  glimpse  of  her.  Never  mind.  Let  me  feel 
that  she  has  you  within  the  circle,  and  I  without,  with, 
our  lives  devoted  to  her." 

"You    may    rely    upon    that,"    Felix    answered. 


"Wherever  she  is  I  am  going.  I  shall  be  there.  I 
will  watch  over  her." 

Mr.  Sabin  sighed. 

"The  more  difficult  task  is  mine,"  he  said,  "but  I 
have  no  fear  of  failure.  I  shall  find  her  surrounded 
by  spies,  by  those  who  are  now  my  enemies.  Still, 
they  will  find  it  hard  to  shake  me  off.  It  may  be 
that  they  took  her  from  me  only  out  of  revenge.  If 
that  be  so  my  task  will  be  easier.  If  there  are  other 
dangers  which  she  is  called  upon  to  face,  it  is  still  pos- 
sible that  they  might  accept  my  service  instead." 

"You  would  give  it?"  Felix  exclaimed. 

"To  the  last  drop  of  blood  in  my  body,"  Mr. 
Sabin  answered.  "Save  for  my  love  for  her  I  am  a 
dead  man  upon  the  earth.  I  have  no  longer  politics 
or  ambition.  So  the  past  can  easily  be  expunged. 
Those  who  must  be  her  guiding  influence  shall  be 
mine." 

"You  will  win  her  back,"  Felix  said.  "I  am 
sure  of  it." 

"I  am  willing  to  pay  any  price  on  earth,"  Mr. 
Sabin  answered.  "If  they  can  forget  the  past  I 
can.  I  want  you  to  remember  this.  I  want  her 
to  know  it.  I  want  them  to  know  it.  That  is  all, 
Felix." 

Mr.  Sabin  leaned  back  in  his  seat.  He  had  left 
this  country  last  a  stricken  and  defeated  man,  left 
it  with  the  echoes  of  his  ruined  schemes  crashing  in 
his  ears.  He  came  back  to  it  a  man  with  one  purpose 
only,  and  that  such  a  purpose  as  never  before  had 
guided  him — the  love  of  a  woman.  Was  it  a  sign  of 


64        THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

age,  he  wondered,  this  return  to  the  humanities  ?  His 
life  had  been  full  of  great  schemes,  he  had  wieldod 
often  a  gigantic  influence,  more  than  once  he  had  made 
history.  And  now  the  love  of  these  things  had  gone 
from  him.  Their  fascination  was  powerless  to  quicken 
by  a  single  beat  his  steady  pulse.  Monarchy  or  re- 
public— what  did  he  care  ?  It  was  Lucille  he  wanted, 
the  woman  who  had  shown  him  how  sweet  even  defeat 
might  be,  who  had  made  these  three  years  of  his  life 
so  happy  that  they  seemed  to  have  passed  in  one  de- 
lightful dream.  Were  they  dead,  annihilated,  these 
old  ambitions,  the  old  love  of  great  doings,  or  did  they 
only  slumber?  He  moved  in  his  seat  uneasily. 

At  Euston  the  two  men  separated  with  a  silent  hand- 
shake. Mr.  Sabin  drove  to  one  of  the  largest  and 
newest  of  the  modern  hotels  de  luxe.  He  entered  his 
name  as  Mr.  Sabin — the  old  exile's  hatred  of  using  his 
title  in  a  foreign  country  had  become  a  confirmed  habit 
with  him — and  mingled  freely  with  the  crowds  who 
thronged  into  the  restaurant  at  night.  There  were 
many  faces  which  he  remembered,  there  were  a  few  who 
remembered  him.  He  neither  courted  nor  shunned  ob- 
servation. He  sat  at  dinner-time  at  a  retired  table, 
and  found  himself  watching  the  people  with  a  stir  of 
pleasure.  Afterwards  he  went  round  to  a  famous  club, 
of  which  he  had  once  been  made  a  life  member,  but 
towards  midnight  he  was  wearied  of  the  dull  decorum 
of  his  surroundings,  and  returning  to  the  hotel,  sought 
the  restaurant  once  more.  The  stream  of  people  com- 
ing in  to  supper  was  greater  even  than  at  dinner-time. 
He  found  a  small  table,  and  ordered  some  oysters.  The 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        65 

sight  of  this  bevy  of  pleasure-seekers,  all  apparently 
with  multitudes  of  friends,  might  have  engendered  a 
sense  of  loneliness  in  a  man  of  different  disposition. 
To  Mr.  Sabin  his  isolation  was  a  luxury.  He  had  an 
uninterrupted  opportunity  of  pursuing  his  favourite 
study. 

There  entered  a  party  towards  midnight,  to  meet 
whom  the  head-waiter  himself  came  hurrying  from 
the  further  end  of  the  room,  and  whose  arrival  created 
a  little  buzz  of  interest.  The  woman  who  formed  the 
central  figure  of  the  little  group  had  for  two  years 
known  no  rival  either  at  Court  or  in  Society.  She  was 
the  most  beautiful  woman  in  England,  beautiful  too 
with  all  the  subtle  grace  of  her  royal  descent.  There 
were  women  upon  the  stage  whose  faces  might  have 
borne  comparison  with  hers,  but  there  was  not  one  who 
in  a  room  would  not  have  sunk  into  insignificance  by 
her  side.  Her  movements,  her  carriage  were  incom- 
parable— the  inherited  gifts  of  a  race  of  women  born 
in  palaces. 

Mr.  Sabin,  who  neither  shunned  nor  courted  obser- 
vation, watched  her  with  a  grim  smile  which  was  not 
devoid  of  bitterness.  Suddenly  she  saw  him.  With 
a  little  cry  of  wonder  she  came  towards  him  with  out- 
stretched hands. 

"It  is  marvellous,"  she  exclaimed.  "You?  Really 
you?" 

He  bowed  low  over  her  hands. 

"It  is  I,  dear  Helene,"  he  answered.  "A  moment 
ago  I  was  dreaming.  I  thought  that  I  was  back  once 
more  at  Versailles,  and  in  the  presence  of  my  Queen.'* 


66        THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

She  laughed  softly. 

"There  may  be  no  Versailles,"  she  murmured,  "but 
you  will  be  a  courtier  to  the  end  of  your  days." 

"At  least,"  he  said,  "believe  me  that  my  congratula- 
tions come  from  my  heart.  Your  happiness  is  writ- 
ten in  your  face,  and  your  husband  must  be  the  proud- 
est man  in  England." 

He  was  standing  now  by  her  side,  and  he  held  out 
his  hand  to  Mr.  Sabin. 

"I  hope,  sir,"  he  said  pleasantly,  "that  you  bear  me 
no  ill-will." 

"It  would  be  madness,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered.  "To 
be  the  most  beautiful  peeress  in  England  is  perhaps 
for  Helene  a  happier  fate  than  to  be  the  first  queen 
of  a  new  dynasty." 

"And  you,  uncle?"  Helene  said.  "You  are  back 
from  your  exile  then.  How  often  I  have  felt  disposed 
to  smile  when  I  thought  of  you,  of  all  men,  in  Amer- 
ica." 

"I  went  into  exile,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered,  "and  I 
found  paradise.  The  three  years  which  have  passed 
since  I  saw  you  last  have  been  the  happiest  of  my  life." 

"Lucille!"  Helene  exclaimed. 

"Is  my  wife,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered. 

"Delightful !"  Helene  murmured.  "She  is  with  you 
then,  I  hope.  Indeed,  I  felt  sure  that  I  saw  her  the 
other  night  at  the  opera." 

"At  the  opera !"  Mr.  Sabin  for  a  moment  was  silent. 
He  would  have  been  ashamed  to  confess  that  his  heart 
was  beating  strongly,  that  a  crowd  of  eager  questions 
trembled  upon  his  lips.  He  recovered  himself  after  a 
moment. 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        67 

"Lucille  is  not  with  me  for  the  moment,"  he  said  in 
measured  tones.  "I  am  detaining  you  from  your 
guests,  Helene.  If  you  will  permit  me  I  will  call  upon 
you." 

"Won't  you  join  us?"  Lord  Camperdown  asked 
courteously.  "We  are  only  a  small  party — the  Portu- 
guese Ambassador  and  his  wife,  the  Duke  of  Medches- 
ter,  and  Stanle}r  Phillipson." 

Mr.  Sabin  rose  at  once. 

"I  shall  be  delighted,"  he  said. 

Lord  Camperdown  hesitated  for  a  moment. 

"I  present  Monsieur  le  Due  de  Souspennier,  I 
presume?"  he  remarked,  smiling. 

Mr.  Sabin  bowed. 

"I  am  Mr.  Sabin,"  he  said,  "at  the  hotels  and  places 
where  one  travels.  To  my  friends  I  have  no  longer  an 
incognito.  It  is  not  necessary." 

It  was  a  brilliant  little  supper  party,  and  Mr.  Sabin 
contributed  at  least  his  share  to  the  general  entertain- 
ment. Before  they  dispersed  he  had  to  bring  out  his 
tablets  to  make  notes  of  his  engagements.  He  stood 
on  the  top  of  the  steps  above  the  palm-court  to  wish 
them  good-bye,  leaning  on  his  stick.  Helene  turned 
back  and  waved  her  hand. 

"He  is  unchanged,"  she  murmured,  "yet  I  fear  that 
there  must  be  trouble." 

"Why?  He  seemed  cheerful  enough,"  her  husband 
remarked. 

She  dropped  her  voice  a  little. 

"Lucille  is  in  London.  She  is  staying  at  Dorset 
House." 


CHAPTER    X 

MR.  SABIN  was  deep  in  thought.  He  sat 
in  an  easy-chair  with  his  back  to  the  win- 
dow, his  hands  crossed  upon  his  stick,  his 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  fire.  Duson  was 
moving  noiselessly  about  the  room,  cutting  the  morn- 
ing's supply  of  newspapers  and  setting  them  out  upon 
the  table.  His  master  was  in  a  mood  which  he  had 
been  taught  to  respect.  It  was  Mr.  Sabin  who  broke 
the  silence. 

"Duson !" 

"Your  Grace!" 

"I  have  always,  as  you  know,  ignored  your  some- 
what anomalous  position  as  the  servant  of  one  man 
and  the  slave  of  a  society.  The  questions  which  I  am 
about  to  ask  you  you  can  answer  or  not,  according  to 
your  own  apprehensions  of  what  is  due  to  each." 

"I  thank  your  Grace !" 

"My  departure  from  America  seemed  to  incite  the 
most  violent  opposition  on  the  part  of  your  friends. 
As  you  know,  it  was  with  a  certain  amount  of  difficulty 
that  I  reached  this  country.  Now,  however,  I  am  left 
altogether  alone.  I  have  n&t  received  a  single  warn- 
ing letter.  My  comings  and  goings,  although  pur- 
posely devoid  of  the  slightest  secrecy,  are  absolutely 
undisturbed.  Yet  I  have  some  reason  to  believe  that 
your  mistress  is  in  London." 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        69 

"Your  Grace  will  pardon  me,"  Duson  said,  "but 
there  is  outside  a  gentleman  waiting  to  see  you  to  whom 
you  might  address  the  same  questions  with  better  re- 
sults, for  compared  with  him  I  know  nothing.  It  is 
Monsieur  Felix." 

"Why  have  you  kept  him  waiting?"  Mr.  Sabin 
asked. 

"Your  Grace  was  much  absorbed,"  Duson  an- 
swered. 

Felix  Mas  smoking  a  cigarette,  and  Mr.  Sabin 
greeted  him  with  a  certain  grim  cordiality. 

"Is  this  permitted — this  visit?"  he  asked,  himself 
selecting  a  cigarette  and  motioning  his  guest  to  a 
chair. 

"It  is  even  encouraged,"  Felix  answered. 

"You  have  perhaps  some  message?" 

"None." 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  Mr.  Sabin  said.  "Just  now 
I  am  a  little  puzzled.  I  will  put  the  matter  to  you. 
You  shall  answer  or  not,  at  your  own  discretion." 

"I  am  ready,"  Felix  declared. 

"You  know  the  difficulty  with  which  I  escaped  from 
America,"  Mr.  Sabin  continued.  "Every  means  which 
ingenuit}-  could  suggest  seemed  brought  to  bear 
against  me.  And  every  movement  was  directed,  if  not 
from  here,  from  some  place  in  Europe.  Well,  I  ar- 
rived here  four  days  ago.  I  live  quite  openly,  I  have 
even  abjured  to  some  extent  my  incognito.  Yet  I 
have  not  received  even  a  warning  letter.  I  am  left  ab- 
solutely undisturbed." 

Felix  looked  at  him  thoughtfully. 


70        THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"And  what  do  you  deduce  from  this  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  do  not  like  it,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered  drily. 

"After  all,"  Felix  remarked,  "it  is  to  some  extent 
natural.  The  very  openness  of  your  life  here  makes 
interference  with  you  more  difficult,  and  as  to  warning 
letters — well,  you  have  proved  the  uselessness  of  them." 

"Perhaps,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered.  "At  the  same 
time,  if  I  were  a  superstitious  person  I  should  consider 
this  inaction  ominous." 

"You  must  take  account  also,"  Felix  said,  "of  the 
difference  in  the  countries.  In  England  the  police  sys- 
tem, if  not  the  most  infallible  in  the  world,  is  certainly 
the  most  incorruptible.  There  was  never  a  country 
in  which  security  of  person  and  life  was  so  keenly 
watched  over  as  here.  In  America,  up  to  a  certain 
point,  a  man  is  expected  to  look  after  himself.  The 
same  feeling  does  not  prevail  here." 

Mr.  Sabin  assented. 

"And  therefore,"  he  remarked,  "for  the  purposes 
of  your  friends  I  should  consider  this  a  difficult  and 
unpromising  country  in  which  to  work." 

"Other  countries,  other  methods !"  Felix  re- 
marked laconically. 

"Exactly !  It  is  the  new  methods  which  I  am  anx- 
ious to  discover,"  Mr.  Sabin  said.  "No  glimmering 
of  them  as  yet  has  been  vouchsafed  to  me.  Yet  I  be- 
lieve that  I  am  right  in  assuming  that  for  the  moment 
London  is  the  headquarters  of  your  friends,  and  that 
Lucille  is  here?" 

"If  that  is  meant  for  a  question,"  Felix  said,  "I  may 
not  answer  it." 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        71 

Mr.  Sabin  nodded. 

"Yet,"  he  suggested,  "your  visit  has  an  object.  To 
discover  my  plans  perhaps !  You  are  welcome  to 
them." 

Felix  thoughtfully  knocked  the  ashes  off  his  cigar- 
ette. 

"My  visit  had  an  object,"  he  admitted,  "but  it  was 
a  personal  one.  I  am  not  actually  concerned  in  the 
doings  of  those  whom  }TOU  have  called  my  friends." 

"We  are  alone,"  Mr.  Sabin  reminded  him.  "My 
time  is  yours." 

"You  and  I,"  Felix  said,  "have  had  our  periods  of 
bitter  enmity.  With  your  marriage  to  Lucille  these, 
so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  ended  for  ever.  I  will  even 
admit  that  in  my  younger  days  I  was  prejudiced 
against  you.  That  has  passed  away.  You  have  been 
all  your  days  a  bold  and  unscrupulous  schemer,  but 
your  ends  have  at  any  rate  been  worthy  ones.  To- 
day I  am  able  to  regard  you  with  feelings  of  friendli- 
ness. You  are  the  husband  of  my  dear  sister,  and  for 
three  years  I  know  that  you  made  her  very  happy.  I 
ask  you,  will  you  believe  in  this  statement  of  my  atti- 
tude towards  you  ?" 

"I  do  not  for  a  single  moment  doubt  it,"  Mr.  Sabin 
answered. 

"You  will  regard  the  advice  which  I  am  going  to 
give  you  as  disinterested?" 

"Certainly !" 

"Then  I  offer  it  to  you  earnestly,  and  with  my 
whole  heart.  Take  the  next  steamer  and  go  back  to 
America." 


72 

"And  leave  Lucille  ?  Go  without  making  any  effort 
to  see  her?" 

"Yes." 

Mr.  Sabin  was  for  a  moment  very  serious  indeed. 
The  advice  given  in  such  a  manner  was  full  of  fore- 
bodings to  him.  The  lines  from  the  corners  of  his 
mouth  seemed  graven  into  his  face. 

"Felix,"  he  said  slowly,  "I  am  sometimes  conscious 
of  the  fact  that  I  am  passing  into  that  period  of  life 
which  we  call  old  age.  My  ambitions  are  dead,  my 
energies  are  weakened.  For  many  years  I  have  toiled 
— the  time  has  come  for  rest.  Of  all  the  great  pas- 
sions which  I  have  felt  there  remains  but  one — Lucille. 
Life  without  her  is  worth  nothing  to  me.  I  am  weary 
of  solitude,  I  am  weary  of  everything  except  Lucille. 
How  then  can  I  listen  to  such  advice  ?  For  me  it  must 
be  Lucille,  or  that  little  journey  into  the  mists,  from 
which  one  does  not  return." 

Felix  was  silent.  The  pathos  of  this  thing  touched 
him. 

"I  will  not  dispute  the  right  of  those  who  have  taken 
her  from  me,"  Mr.  Sabin  continued,  "but  I  want  her 
back.  She  is  necessary  to  me.  My  purse,  my  life, 
my  brains  are  there  to  be  thrown  into  the  scales.  I  will 
buy  her,  or  fight  for  her,  or  rejoin  their  ranks  myself. 
But  I  want  her  back." 

Still  Felix  was  silent.  He  was  looking  steadfastly 
into  the  fire. 

"You  have  heard  me,"  Mr.  Sabin  said. 

"I  have  heard  you,"  Felix  answered.  "My  advice 
stands." 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        73 

"I  know  now,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "that  I  have  a  hard 
task  before  me.  They  shall  have  me  for  a  friend  or  an 
enemy.  I  can  still  make  myself  felt  as  either.  You 
have  nothing  more  to  say?" 

"Nothing  !»» 

"Then  let  us  part  company,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "or 
talk  of  something  more  cheerful.  You  depress  me,  Fe- 
lix. Let  Duson  bring  us  wine.  You  look  like  a 
death's  head." 

Felix  roused  himself. 

"You  will  go  your  own  way,"  he  said.  "Now  that 
you  have  chosen  I  will  tell  you  this.  I  am  glad.  Yes, 
let  Duson  bring  wine.  I  will  drink  to  your  health  and 
to  your  success.  There  have  been  times  when  men 
have  performed  miracles.  I  shall  drink  to  that 
miracle." 

Duson  brought  also  a  letter,  which  Mr.  Sabin,  with 
a  nod  towards  Felix,  opened.  It  was  from  Helene. 

"15  Park  Lane,  London, 

"Thursday  Morning. 
"My  DEAB,  UNCLE, — 

"I  want  you  to  come  to  luncheon  to-day.  The 
Princess  de  Catelan  is  here,  and  I  am  expecting  also 
Mr.  Brott,  the  Home  Secretary — our  one  great  poli- 
tician, you  know.  Many  people  say  that  he  is  the  most 
interesting  man  in  England,  and  must  be  our  next 
Prime  Minister.  Such  people  interest  you,  I  know. 
Do  come. 

"Yours  sincerely, 

"HELENE." 


74 

Mr.  Sabin  repeated  the  name  to  himself  as  he  stood 
for  a  moment  with  the  letter  in  his  hand. 

"Brott !  What  a  name  for  a  statesman !  Well,  here 
is  your  health,  Felix.  I  do  not  often  drink  wine  in  the 
morning,  but " 

He  broke  off  in  the  middle  of  his  sentence.  The 
glass  which  Felix  had  been  in  the  act  of  raising  to  his 
lips  lay  shattered  upon  the  floor,  and  a  little  stream  of 
wine  trickled  across  the  carpet.  Felix  himself  seemed 
scarcely  conscious  of  the  disaster.  His  cheeks  were 
white,  and  he  leaned  across  the  table  towards  Mr.  Sa- 
bin. 

"What  name  did  you  say — what  name?" 

Mr.  Sabin  referred  again  to  the  letter  which  he  held 
in  his  hand. 

"Brott!"  he  repeated.  "He  is  Home  Secretary,  I 
believe." 

"What  do  you  know  about  him  ?" 

"Nothing,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered.  "My  niece,  the 
Countess  of  Camperdown,  asks  me  to  meet  him  to-day 
at  luncheon.  Explain  yourself,  my  young  friend. 
There  is  a  fresh  glass  by  your  side." 

Felix  poured  himself  out  a  glass  and  drank  it  off. 
But  he  remained  silent. 

"Well?" 

Felix  picked  up  his  gloves  and  stick. 

"You  are  asked  to  meet  Mr.  Brott  at  luncheon  to- 
day?" 

"Yes." 

"Are  you  going?" 

"Certainly !" 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        75 

Felix  nodded. 

"Very  good,"  he  said.  "I  should  advise  you  to  cul- 
tivate his  acquaintance.  He  is  a  very  extraordinary 
man." 

"Come,  Felix,"  Mr.  Sabin  said.  "You  owe  me 
something  more  lucid  in  the  way  of  explanations.  Who 
is  he?" 

"A  statesman — successful,  ambitious.  He  expects 
to  be  Prime  Minister." 

"And  what  have  I  to  do  with  him,  or  he  with  me?" 
Mr.  Sabin  asked  quietly. 

Felix  shook  his  head. 

"I  cannot  tell  you,"  he  said.  "Yet  I  fancy  that  you 
and  he  may  some  time  be  drawn  together." 

Mr.  Sabin  asked  no  more  questions,  but  he  promptly 
sat  down  and  accepted  his  niece's  invitation.  When  he 
looked  round  Felix  had  gone.  He  rang  the  bell  for 
Duson  and  handed  him  the  note. 

"My  town  clothes,  Duson,"  he  ordered.  "I  am 
lunching  out." 

The  man  bowed  and  withdrew.  Mr.  Sabin  remained 
for  a  few  moments  in  deep  thought. 

"Brott!"  he  repeated.  "Brott!  It  is  a  singular 
name." 


CHAPTER    XI 

SO  this  was  the  man!  Mr.  Sabin  did  not 
neglect  his  luncheon,  nor  was  he  ever  for  a 
moment  unmindful  of  the  grey-headed 
princess  who  chatted  away  by  his  side  with 
all  the  vivacity  of  her  race  and  sex.  But  he  watched 
Mr.  Brott. 

A  man  this!  Mr.  Sabin  was  a  judge,  and  he  ap- 
praised him  rightly.  He  saw  through  that  courteous 
geniality  of  tone  and  gesture;  the  ready-made  smile, 
although  it  seemed  natural  enough,  did  not  deceive 
him.  Underneath  was  a  man  of  iron,  square- jawed,, 
nervous,  forceful.  Mr.  Brott  was  probably  at  that 
time  the  ablest  politician  of  either  party  in  the  coun- 
try. Mr.  Sabin  knew  it.  He  found  himself  wonder- 
ing exactly  at  what  point  of  their  lives  this  man  and 
he  would  come  into  contact. 

After  luncheon  Helene  brought  them  together. 

"I  believe,"  she  said  to  Mr.  Brott,  "that  you  have 
never  met  my  uncle.  May  I  make  you  formally  ac- 
quainted? Uncle,  this  is  Mr.  Brott,  whom  you  must 
know  a  great  deal  about  even  though  you  have  been 
away  for  so  long — the  Due  de  Souspennier." 

The  two  men  bowed  and  Helene  passed  on.  Mr. 
Sabin  leaned  upon  his  stick  and  watched  keenly  for 
any  sign  in  the  other's  face.  If  he  expected  to  find  it 
he  was  disappointed.  Either  this  man  had  no 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        77 

knowledge  of  who  he  was,  or  those  things  which  were 
to  come  between  them  were  as  yet  unborn. 

They  strolled  together  after  the  other  guests  into 
the  winter  gardens,  which  were  the  envy  of  every  host- 
ess in  London.  Mr.  Sabin  lit  a  cigarette,  Mr.  Brott 
regretfully  declined.  He  neither  smoked  nor  drank 
wine.  Yet  he  was  disposed  to  be  friendly,  and  selected 
a  seat  where  they  were  a  little  apart  from  the  other 
guests. 

"You  at  least,"  he  remarked,  in  answer  to  an 
observation  of  Mr.  Sabin's,  "are  free  from  the 
tyranny  of  politics.  I  am  assuming,  of  course,  that 
your  country  under  its  present  form  of  government  has 
lost  its  hold  upon  you." 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled. 

"It  is  a  doubtful  boon,"  he  said.  "It  is  true  that 
I  am  practically  an  exile.  Republican  France  has  no 
need  of  me.  Had  I  been  a  soldier  I  could  still  have 
remained  a  patriot.  But  for  one  whose  leanings  were 
towards  politics,  neither  my  father  before  me  nor  I 
could  be  of  service  to  our  country.  You  should  be 
thankful,"  he  continued  with  a  slight  smile,  "that  you 
are  an  Englishman.  No  constitution  in  the  world  can 
offer  so  much  to  the  politician  who  is  strong  enough 
and  fearless  enough." 

Mr.  Brott  glanced  towards  his  companion  with 
twinkling  eyes. 

"Do  you  happen  to  know  what  my  politics  are?" 
he  asked. 

Mr.  Sabin  hesitated. 

"Your    views,    I    know,    are    advanced,"    he    said. 


78        THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"For  the  rest  I  have  been  abroad  for  years.  I  have 
lost  touch  a  little  with  affairs  in  this  country." 

"I  am  afraid,"  Mr.  Brott  said,  "that  I  shall  shock 
you.  You  are  an  aristocrat  of  the  aristocrats.  I  a 
democrat  of  the  democrats.  The  people  are  the  only 
masters  whom  I  own.  They  first  sent  me  to  Parlia- 
ment." 

"Yet,"  Mr.  Sabin  remarked,  "you  are,  I  understand, 
in  the  Cabinet." 

Mr.  Brott  glanced  for  a  moment  around.  The 
Prime  Minister  was  somewhere  in  the  winter  gardens. 

"That,"  he  declared,  "is  an  accident.  I  happened 
to  be  the  only  man  available  who  could  do  the  work 
when  Lord  Kilbrooke  died.  I  am  telling  you  only 
what  is  an  open  secret.  But  I  am  afraid  I  am  boring 
you.  Shall  we  join  the  others?" 

"Not  unless  you  yourself  are  anxious  to,"  Mr.  Sabin 
begged.  "It  is  scarcely  fair  to  detain  you  talking  to 
an  old  man  when  there  are  so  many  charming  women 
here.  But  I  should  be  sorry  for  you  to  think  me  hide- 
bound in  my  prejudices.  You  must  remember  that 
the  Revolution  decimated  my  family.  It  was  a  long 
time  ago,  but  the  horror  of  it  is  still  a  live  thing." 

"Yet  it  was  the  natural  outcome,"  Mr.  Brott  said, 
"of  the  things  which  went  before.  Such  hideous  mis- 
government  as  generations  of  your  countrymen  had 
suffered  was  logically  bound  to  bring  its  own  reprisal." 

"There  is  truth  in  what  you  say,"  Mr.  Sabin  ad- 
mitted. He  did  not  want  to  talk  about  the  French 
Revolution. 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        79 

"You  arc  a  stranger  in  London,  are  you  not?"  Mr. 
Brott  asked. 

"I  feel  myself  one,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered.  "I  have 
been  away  for  a  few  years,  and  I  do  not  think  that 
there  is  a  city  in  the  world  where  social  changes  are  so 
rapid.  I  should  perhaps  except  the  cities  of  the 
country  from  which  I  have  come.  But  then  America 
is  a  universe  of  itself." 

For  an  instant  Mr.  Brott  gave  signs  of  the  man 
underneath.  The  air  of  polite  interest  had  left  his 
face.  He  glanced  swiftly  and  keenly  at  his  compan- 
ion. Mr.  Sabin's  expression  was  immutable.  It  was 
he  who  scored,  for  he  marked  the  change,  whilst  Mr. 
Brott  could  not  be  sure  whether  he  had  noticed  it  or 
not. 

"You  have  been  living  in  America,  then?" 

"For  several  years — yes." 

"It  is  a  country,"  Mr.  Brott  said,  "which  I  am  par- 
ticularly anxious  to  visit.  I  see  my  chances,  however, 
grow  fewer  and  fewer  as  the  years  go  by." 

"For  one  like  yourself,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "whose 
instincts  and  sympathies  are  wholly  with  the  democ- 
racy, a  few  months  in  America  would  be  very  well 
spent." 

"And  you,"  Mr.  Brott  remarked,  "how  did  you  get 
on  with  the  people?" 

Mr.  Sabin  traced  a  pattern  with  his  stick  upon  the 
marble  floor. 

"I  lived  in  the  country,"  he  said,  "I  played  golf 
and  read  and  rested." 


80 

"Were  you  anywhere  near  New  York?"  Mr.  Brott 
asked. 

"A  few  hours'  journey  only,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered. 
"My  home  was  in  a  very  picturesque  part,  near 
Lenox." 

Mr.  Brott  leaned  a  little  forward. 

"You  perhaps  know  then  a  lady  who  spent  some  time 
in  that  neighbourhood — a  Mrs.  James  Peterson.  Her 
husband  was,  I  believe,  the  American  consul  in 
Vienna." 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled  very  faintly.  His  face  betrayed 
no  more  than  a  natural  and  polite  interest.  There 
was  nothing  to  indicate  the  fact  that  his  heart  was 
beating  like  the  heart  of  a  young  man,  that  the  blood 
was  rushing  hot  through  his  veins. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  know  her  very  well.  Is  she  in 
London  ?" 

Mr.  Brott  hesitated.  He  seemed  a  little  uncertain 
how  to  continue. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,"  he  said,  "I  believe  that 
she  has  reasons  for  desiring  her  present  whereabouts 
to  remain  unknown.  I  should  perhaps  not  have 
mentioned  her  name  at  all.  It  was,  I  fancy,  indiscreet 
of  me.  The  coincidence  of  hearing  you  mention  the 
name  of  the  place  where  I  believe  she  resided  surprised 
my  question.  With  your  permission  we  will  abandon 
the  subject." 

"You  disappoint  me,"  Mr.  Sabin  said  quietly.  "It 
would  have  given  me  much  pleasure  to  have  resumed 
my  acquaintance  with  the  lady  in  question." 

"You  will,  without  doubt,  have  an  opportunity," 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        81 

Mr.  Brott  said,  glancing  at  his  watch  and  suddenly  ris- 
ing. "Dear  me,  how  the  time  goes." 

He  rose  to  his  feet.      Mr.  Sabin  also  rose. 

"Must  I  understand,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone,  "that 
you  are  not  at  liberty  to  give  me  Mrs.  Peterson's  ad- 
dress?" 

"I  am  not  at  liberty  even,"  Mr.  Brott  answered,  with 
a  frown,  "to  mention  her  name.  It  will  give  me  great 
pleasure,  Duke,  to  better  my  acquaintance  with  you. 
Will  you  dine  with  me  at  the  House  of  Commons  one 
night  next  week?" 

"I  shall  be  charmed,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered.  "My 
address  for  the  next  few  days  is  at  the  Carlton.  I  am 
staying  there  under  my  family  name  of  Sabin — Mr. 
Sabin.  It  is  a  fancy  of  mine — it  has  been  ever  since 
I  became  an  alien — to  use  my  title  as  little  as  possible." 

Mr.  Brott  looked  for  a  moment  puzzled. 

"Your  pseudonym,"  he  remarked  thoughtfully, 
"seems  very  familiar  to  me." 

Mr.  Sabin  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"It  is  a  family  name,"  he  remarked,  "but  I  flattered 
myself  that  it  was  at  least  uncommon." 

"Fancy,  no  doubt,"  Mr.  Brott  remarked,  turning 
to  make  his  adieux  to  his  hostess. 

Mr.  Sabin  joined  a  fresh  group  of  idlers  under  the 
palms.  Mr.  Brott  lingered  over  his  farewells. 

"Your  uncle,  Lady  Camperdown,"  he  said,  "is  de- 
lightful. I  enjoy  meeting  new  types,  and  he  repre- 
sents to  me  most  perfectly  the  old  order  of  French  aris- 
tocracy." 

"I  am  glad,"  Helene  said,  "that  you  found  him 


82        THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

interesting.     I  felt  sure  you  would.     In  fact,  I  asked 
him  especially  to  meet  you." 

"You  are  the  most  thoughtful  of  hostesses,"  he  as- 
sured her.  "By  the  bye,  your  uncle  has  just  told  me 
the  name  by  which  he  is  known  at  the  hotel.  Mr.  Sa- 
bin !  Sabin !  It  recalls  something  to  my  mind.  I  can- 
not exactly  remember  what." 

She  smiled  upon  him.  People  generally  forgot 
things  when  Helene  smiled. 

"It  is  an  odd  fancy  of  his  to  like  his  title  so  little," 
she  remarked.  "At  heart  no  one  is  prouder  of  their 
family  and  antecedents.  I  have  heard  him  say, 
though,  that  an  exile  had  better  leave  behind  him  even 
his  name." 

"Sabin!"  Mr.  Brott  repeated.     "Sabin!" 

"It  is  an  old  family  name,"  she  murmured. 

His  face  suddenly  cleared.  She  knew  that  he  had 
remembered.  But  he  took  his  leave  with  no  further 
reference  to  it. 

"Sabin !"  he  repeated  to  himself  when  alone  in  his 
carriage.  "That  was  the  name  of  the  man  who  was 
supposed  to  be  selling  plans  to  the  German  Govern- 
ment. Poor  Renshaw  was  in  a  terrible  stew  about  it. 
Sabin!  An  uncommon  name." 

He  had  ordered  the  coachman  to  drive  to  the  House 
of  Commons.  Suddenly  he  pulled  the  check-string. 

"Call  at  Dorset  House,"  he  directed. 

*  *  *  *  * 

Mr.  Sabin  lingered  till  nearly  the  last  of  the  guests 
had  gone.  Then  he  led  Helene  once  more  into  the 
winter  gardens. 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        83 

"May  I  detain  you  for  one  moment's  gossip?"  he 
asked.  "I  see  your  carriage  at  the  door." 

She  laughed. 

"It  is  nothing,"  she  declared.  "I  must  drive  in  the 
Park  for  an  hour.  One  sees  one's  friends,  and  it  is 
cool  and  refreshing  after  these  heated  rooms,  But  at 
any  time.  Talk  to  me  as  long  as  you  will,  and  then  I 
will  drop  you  at  the  Carlton." 

"It  is  of  Brott !"  he  remarked.  "Ah,  I  thank  you, 
I  will  smoke.  Your  husband's  taste  in  cigarettes  is 
excellent." 

"Perhaps  mine !"  she  laughed. 

Mr.  Sabin  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"In  either  case  I  congratulate  you.  This  man 
Brott.  He  interests  me." 

"He  interests  every  one.  Why  not?  He  is  a 
great  personality." 

"Politically,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "the  gauge  of  his  suc- 
cess is  of  course  the  measure  of  the  man.  But  he  him- 
self— what  manner  of  a  man  is  he?" 

She  tapped  with  her  fingers  upon  the  little  table  by 
their  side. 

"He  is  rich,"  she  said,  "and  an  uncommon  mix- 
ture of  the  student  and  the  man  of  society.  He 
refuses  many  more  invitations  than  he  accepts,  he  en- 
tertains very  seldom  but  very  magnificently.  He  has 
never  been  known  to  pay  marked  attentions  to  any 
Woman,  even  the  scandal  of  the  clubs  has  passed  him 
by.  What  else  can  I  say  about  him,  I  wonder?"  she 
continued  reflectively.  "Nothing,  I  think,  except  this. 


84        THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

He  is  a  strong  man.  You  know  that  that  counts  for 
much." 

Mr.  Sabin  was  silent.  Perhaps  he  was  measuring 
his  strength  in  some  imagined  encounter  with  this  man. 
Something  in  his  face  alarmed  Helene.  She  suddenly 
leaned  forward  and  looked  at  him  more  closely. 

"Uncle,"  she  exclaimed  in  a  low  voice,  "there  is  some- 

^ff 

thing  on  your  mind.  Do  not  tell  me  that  once  more 
you  are  in  the  maze,  that  again  you  have  schemes — 
against  this  country." 

He  smiled  at  her  sadly  enough,  but  she  was  reas- 
sured. 

"You  need  have  no  fear,"  he  told  her.  "With  poli- 
tics— I  have  finished.  Why  I  am  here,  what  I  am  here 
for  I  will  tell  you  very  soon.  It  is  to  find  one  whom 
I  have  lost — and  who  is  dear  to  me.  Forgive  me  if 
for  to-day  I  say  no  more.  Come,  if  you  will  you  shall 
drive  me  to  my  hotel." 

He  offered  his  arm  with  the  courtly  grace  which 
he  knew  so  well  how  to  assume.  Together  they 
passed  out  to  her  carriage. 


CHAPTER    XII 


A 


44  A  FTER  all,"  Lady  Carey  sighed, 
throwing  down  a  racing  calendar 
and  lighting  a  cigarette,  "London 
is  the  only  thoroughly  civilised 
Anglo-Saxon  capital  in  the  world.  Please  don't  look 
at  me  like  that,  Duchess.  I  know  this  is  your  holy  of 
holies,  but  the  Duke  smokes  here — I've  seen  him.  My 
cigarettes  are  very  tiny  and  very  harmless." 

The  Duchess,  who  wore  gold-rimmed  spectacles, 
and  was  a  person  of  weight  in  the  councils  of  the 
Primrose  League,  went  calmly  on  with  her  knitting. 

"My  dear  Muriel,"  she  said,  "if  my  approval  or  dis- 
approval was  of  the  slightest  moment  to  you,  it  is  not 
your  smoking  of  which  I  should  first  complain.  I 
know,  however,  that  you  consider  yourself  a  privileged 
person.  Pray  do  exactly  as  you  like,  but  don't  drop 
the  ashes  upon  the  carpet." 

Lady  Carey  laughed  softly. 

"I  suppose  I  am  rather  a  thorn  in  your  side  as  a 
relative,"  she  remarked.  "You  must  put  it  down  to 
the  roving  blood  of  my  ancestors.  I  could  no  more 
live  the  life  of  you  other  women  than  I  could  fly.  I 
must  have  excitement,  movement,  all  the  time." 

A  tall,  heavily  built  man,  who  had  been  reading 
some  letters  at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  came  saun- 
tering up  to  them. 


86        THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"Well,"  he  said,  "you  assuredly  live  up  to  your  prin- 
ciples, for  you  travel  all  over  the  world  as  though  it 
were  one  vast  playground." 

"And  sometimes,"  she  remarked,  "my  journeys  are 
net  exactly  successful.  I  know  that  that  is  what  you 
are  dying  to  say." 

"On  the  contrary,"  he  said,  "I  do  not  blame  you 
at  all  for  this  last  affair.  You  brought  Lucille  here, 
which  was  excellent.  Your  failure  as  regards  Mr. 
Sabin  is  scarcely  to  be  fastened  upon  you.  It  is 
Ilorser  whom  we  hold  responsible  for  that." 

She  laughed. 

"Poor  Horser!  It  was  rather  rough  to  pit  a 
creature  like  that  against  Souspennier." 

The  man  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Horser,"  he  said,  "may  not  be  brilliant,  but  he 
fcad  a  great  organisation  at  his  back.  Souspennier 
was  without  friends  or  influence.  The  contest 
should  scarcely  have  been  so  one-sided.  To  tell  you 
the  truth,  my  dear  Muriel,  I  am  more  surprised  that 
jou  yourself  should  have  found  the  task  beyond  you." 

Lady  Carey's  face  darkened. 

"It  was  too  soon  after  the  loss  of  Lucille,"  she  said, 
"and  besides,  there  was  his  vanity  to  be  reckoned  with. 
It  was  like  a  challenge  to  him,  and  he  had  taken  up  the 
glove  before  I  returned  to  New  York." 

The  Duchess  looked  up  from  her  work. 

"Have  you  had  any  conversation  with  my  husband, 
Prince?"  she  asked. 

The    Prince  of    Saxe   Leinitzer  twirled  his    heavy 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON        87 

moustache  and  sank  into  a  chair  between  the  two 
women. 

"I  have  had  a  long  talk  with  him,"  he  announced. 

"And  the  result?"  the  Duchess  asked. 

"The  result  I  fear  you  would  scarcely  consider  sat- 
isfactory," the  Prince  declared.  "The  moment  that 
I  hinted  at  the  existence  of — er — conditions  of  which 
you,  Duchess,  are  aware,  he  showed  alarm,  and  I  had 
all  that  I  could  do  to  reassure  him.  I  find  it  every- 
where amongst  your  aristocracy — this  stubborn  confi- 
dence in  the  existence  of  the  reigning  order  of  things, 
this  absolute  detestation  of  anything  approaching  in- 
trigue." 

"My  dear  man,  I  hope  you  don't  include  me,"  Lady 
Carey  exclaimed. 

"You,  Lady  Muriel,"  he  answered,  with  a  slow 
smile,  "are  an  exception  to  all  rules.  No,  you  are  a 
rule  by  yourself." 

"To  revert  to  the  subject  then  for  a  moment,"  the 
Duchess  said  stiffly.  "You  have  made  no  progress 
with  the  Duke?" 

"None  whatever,"  Saxe  Leinitzer  admitted.  "He 
was  sufficiently  emphatic  to  inspire  me  with  every  cau- 
tion. Even  now  I  have  doubts  as  to  whether  I  have 
altogether  reassured  him.  I  really  believe,  dear  Duch- 
ess, that  we  should  be  better  off  if  you  could  persuade 
him  to  go  and  live  upon  his  estates." 

The  Duchess  smiled  grimly. 

"Whilst  the  House  of  Lords  exists,"  she  remarked, 
"you  will  never  succeed  in  keeping  Algernon  away 


88         THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

from  London.  He  is  always  on  the  point  of  making 
a  speech,  although  he  never  does  it." 

"I  have  heard  of  that  speech,"  Lady  Carey  drawled, 
from  her  low  seat.  "It  is  to  be  a  thoroughly  enlight- 
ening affair.  All  the  great  social  questions  are  to  be 
permanently  disposed  of.  The  Prime  Minister  will 
come  on  his  knees  and  beg  Algernon  to  take  his 
place." 

The  Duchess  looked  up  over  her  knitting. 

"Algernon  is  at  least  in  earnest,"  she  remarked 
drily.  "And  he  has  the  good  conscience  of  a  clean 
living  and  honest  man." 

"What  an  unpleasant  possession  it  must  be," 
Lady  Carey  remarked  sweetly.  "I  disposed  of  my 
conscience  finally  many  years  ago.  I  am  not  sure, 
but  I  believe  that  it  was  the  Prince  to  whom  I 
entrusted  the  burying  of  it.  By  the  bye,  Lucille  will 
be  here  directly,  I  suppose.  Is  she  to  be  told  of  Sous- 
pennier's  arrival  in  London?" 

"I  imagine,"  the  Prince  said,  with  knitted  brows, 
"that  it  will  not  be  wise  to  keep  it  from  her.  It  is 
impossible  to  conceal  her  whereabouts,  and  the  papers 
will  very  shortly  acquaint  her  with  his." 

"And,"  Lady  Carey  asked,  "how  does  the  little  af- 
fair progress?" 

"Admirably,"  the  Prince  answered.  "Already  some 
of  the  Society  papers  are  beginning  to  chatter  about 
the  friendship  existing  between  a  Cabinet  Minister 
and  a  beautiful  Hungarian  lady  of  title,  etc.,  etc. 
The  fact  of  it  is  that  Brott  is  in  deadly  earnest.  He 
gives  himself  away  every  time.  If  Lucille  has  not  lost 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        89 

her  old  cleverness  she  will  be  able  to  twist  him  present- 
ly around  her  little  finger." 

"If  only  some  one  would  twist  him  on  the  rack,"  the 
Duchess  murmured  vindictively.  "I  tried  to  read  one 
of  his  speeches  the  other  day.  It  was  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  blasphemy.  I  do  not  think  that  I  am 
naturally  a  cruel  woman,  but  I  would  hand  such  men 
over  to  the  public  executioner  with  joy." 

Lucille  came  in,  as  beautiful  as  ever,  but  with  tired 
lines  under  her  full  dark  eyes.  She  sank  into  a  low 
chair  with  listless  grace. 

"Reginald  Brott  again,  I  suppose,"  she  remarked 
curtly.  "I  wish  the  man  had  never  existed." 

"That  is  a  very  cruel  speech,  Lucille,"  the  Prince 
said,  with  a  languishing  glance  towards,  her,  "for  if 
it  had  not  been  for  Brott  we  should  never  have  dared 
to  call  you  out  from  your  seclusion." 

"Then  more  heartily  than  ever,"  Lucille  declared, 
"I  wish  the  man  had  never  been  born.  You  cannot 
possibly  flatter  yourself,  Prince,  that  your  summons 
was  a  welcome  one." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  shall  never  be  able  to  believe,"  he  said,  "that 
the  Countess  Radantz  was  able  to  do  more  than  sup- 
port existence  in  a  small  American  town  without  so- 
ciety, with  no  scope  for  her  ambitions,  detached  alto- 
gether from  the  whole  civilised  world." 

"Which  only  goes  to  prove,  Prince,"  Lucille  re- 
marked contemptuously,  "that  you  do  not  understand 
me  in  the  least.  As  a  place  of  residence  Lenox  would 
compare  very  favourably  with — say  Homburg,  and 


90 

for  companionship  you  forget  my  husband.  I  never 
met  the  woman  yet  who  did  not  prefer  the  company 
of  one  man,  if  only  it  were  the  right  one,  to  the  cosmo- 
politan throng  we  call  society." 

"It  sounds  idyllic,  but  very  gauche,"  Lady  Carey 
remarked  drily.  "In  effect  it  is  rather  a  blow  on  the 
cheek  for  you,  Prince.  Of  course  you  know  that  the 
Prince  is  in  love  with  you,  Lucille?" 

"I  wish  he  were,"  she  answered,  looking  lazily  out 
of  the  window. 

He  bent  over  her. 

"Why?" 

"I  would  persuade  him  to  send  me  home  again,"  she 
answered  coldly. 

The  Duchess  looked  up  from  her  knitting. 

"Your  husband  has  saved  you  the  journey,"  she  re- 
marked, "even  if  you  were  able  to  work  upon  the 
Prince's  good  nature  to  such  an  extent." 

Lucille  started  round  eagerly. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  cried. 

"Your  husband  is  in  London,"  the  Duchess  an- 
swered. 

Lucille  laughed  with  the  gaiety  of  a  child.  Like 
magic  the  lines  from  beneath  her  eyes  seemed  to  have 
vanished.  Lady  Carey  watched  her  with  pale  cheeks 
and  malevolent  expression. 

"Come,  Prince,"  she  cried  mockingly,  "it  was  only 
a  week  ago  that  you  assured  me  that  my  husband  could 
not  leave  America.  Already  he  is  in  London.  I  must 
go  to  see  him.  Oh,  I  insist  upon  it.*' 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        91 

Saxe  Leinitzer  glanced  towards  the  Duchess.  She 
laid  down  her  knitting. 

"My  dear  Countess,"  she  said  firmly,  "I  beg  that 
you  will  listen  to  me  carefully.  I  speak  to  you  for 
your  own  good,  and  I  believe  I  may  add,  Prince,  that 
I  speak  with  authority." 

"With  authority  !"  the  Prince  echoed. 

"We  all,"  the  Duchess  continued,  "look  upon  your 
husband's  arrival  as  inopportune  and  unfortunate. 
We  are  all  agreed  that  you  must  be  kept  apart.  Cer- 
tain obligations  have  been  laid  upon  you.  You  could 
not  possibly  fulfil  them  with  a  husband  at  your  elbow. 
The  matter  will  be  put  plainly  before  your  husband, 
as  I  am  now  putting  it  before  you.  He  will  be  warned 
not  to  attempt  to  see  or  communicate  with  you  as  your 
husband.  If  he  or  you  disobey  the  consequences  will 
be  serious." 

Lucille  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"It  is  easy  to  talk,"  she  said,  "but  you  will  not  find 
it  easy  to  keep  Victor  away  when  he  has  found  out 
where  I  am." 

The  Prince  intervened. 

"We  have  no  objection  to  your  meeting,"  he  said, 
"but  it  must  be  as  acquaintances.  There  must  be  no 
intermission  or  slackening  in  your  task,  and  that  can 
only  be  properly  carried  out  by  the  Countess  Radantz 
and  from  Dorset  House." 

Lucille  smothered  her  disappointment. 

"Dear  me,"  she  said.  "You  will  find  Victor  a  little 
hard  to  persuade." 


92        THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Then  the  Prince 
spoke  slowly,  and  watching  carefully  the  effect  of  his 
words  upon  Lucille. 

"Countess,"  he  said,  "it  has  been  our  pleasure  to 
make  of  your  task  so  far  as  possible  a  holiday.  Yet 
perhaps  it  is  wiser  to  remind  you  that  underneath  the 
glove  is  an  iron  hand.  We  do  not  often  threaten,  but 
we  brook  no  interference.  We  have  the  means  to 
thwart  it.  I  bear  no  ill-will  to  your  husband,  but  to 
you  I  say  this.  If  he  should  be  so  mad  as  to  defy  us, 
to  incite  you  to  disobedience,  he  must  pay  the  penalty." 

A  servant  entered. 

"Mr.  Reginald  Brott  is  in  the  small  drawing-room, 
your  Grace,"  he  announced.  "He  enquired  for  the 
Countess  Radantz." 

Lucille  rose.  When  the  servant  had  disappeared 
she  turned  round  for  a  moment,  and  faced  the  Prince. 
A  spot  of  colour  burned  in  her  cheeks,  her  eyes  were 
bright  with  anger. 

"I  shall  remember  your  words,  Prince,"  she  said. 
"So  far  from  mine  being,  however,  a  holiday  task,  it 
is  one  of  the  most  wearisome  and  unpleasant  I  ever 
undertook.  And  in  return  for  your  warnings  let  me 
tell  you  this.  If  you  should  bring  any  harm  upon 
my  husband  you  shall  answer  for  it  all  your  days  to 
me.  I  will  do  my  duty.  Be  careful  that  you  do  not 
exceed  yours." 

She  swept  out  of  the  room.     Lady  Carey  laughed 

mockingly  at  the  Prince. 

"Poor  Ferdinand !"  she  exclaimed. 


H 


CHAPTER  XIII 

E  had  been  kept  waiting  longer  than  usual, 
and  he  had  somehow  the  feeling  that  his 
visit  was  ill-timed,  when  at  last  she  came 
to  him.  He  looked  up  eagerly  as  she  en- 
tered the  little  reception  room  which  he  had  grown  to 
know  so  well  during  the  last  few  weeks,  and  it  struck 
him  for  the  first  time  that  her  welcome  was  a  little 
forced,  her  eyes  a  little  weary. 

"I  haven't,"  he  said  apologetically,  "the  least 
right  to  be  here." 

"At  least,"  she  murmured,  "I  may  be  permitted 
to  remind  you  that  you  are  here  without  an  invitation." 

"The  worse  luck,"  he  said,  "that  one  should  be 
necessary." 

"This  is  the  one  hour  of  the  day,"  she  remarked, 
sinking  into  a  large  easy-chair,  "which  I  devote  to  re- 
pose. How  shall  I  preserve  my  fleeting  youth  if  you 
break  in  upon  it  in  this  ruthless  manner?" 

"If  I  could  only  truthfully  say  that  I  was  sorry," 
he  answered,  "but  I  can't.  I  am  here — and  I  would 
rather  be  here  than  anywhere  else  in  the  world." 

She  looked  at  him  with  curving  lips :  and  even  he, 
who  had  watched  her  often,  could  not  tell  whether  that 
curve  was  of  scorn  or  mirth. 

"They  told  me,"  she  said  impressively,  "that  you 
were  different — a  woman-hater,  honest,  gruff,  a  little 


94        THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

cynical.    Yet  those  are  the  speeches  of  your  salad  days. 
What  a  disenchantment !" 

"The  things  which  one  invents  when  one  is  young,'* 
he  said,  "come  perhaps  fresh  from  the  heart  in  later 
life.  The  words  may  sound  the  same,  but  there  is  a 
difference." 

"Come,"  she  said,  "you  are  improving.  That  at 
any  rate  is  ingenious.  Suppose  you  tell  me  now  what 
has  brought  you  here  before  four  o'clock,  when  I  am 
not  fit  to  be  seen?" 

He  smiled.    She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"I  mean  it.  I  haven't  either  my  clothes  or  my  man- 
ners on  yet.  Come,  explain." 

"I  met  a  man  who  interested  me,"  he  answered.  "He 
comes  from  America,  from  Lenox!" 

He  saw  her  whiten.  He  saw  her  fingers  clutch  the 
sides  of  her  chair. 

"From  Lenox?    And  his  name?" 

"The  Duke  of  Souspennier!  He  takes  himself  so 
seriously  that  he  even  travels  incognito.  At  the  hotel 
he  calls  himself  Mr.  Sabin." 

"Indeed!" 

"I  wondered  whether  you  might  not  know  him  ?" 

"Yes,  I  know  him." 

"And  in  connection  with  this  man,"  Brott  con- 
tinued, "I  have  something  in  the  nature  of  a  confes- 
sion to  make.  I  forgot  for  a  moment  your  request 
I  even  mentioned  your  name." 

The  pallor  had  spread  to  her  cheeks,  even  to  her 
lips.  Yet  her  eyes  were  soft  and  brilliant,  so  brilliant 
that  they  fascinated  him. 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        95 

"What  did  he  say?    What  did  he  ask?" 

"He  asked  for  your  address.  Don't  be  afraid.  I 
made  some  excuse.  I  did  not  give  it." 

For  the  life  of  him  he  could  not  tell  whether  she 
was  pleased  or  disappointed.  She  had  turned  her 
shoulder  to  him.  She  was  looking  steadily  out  of  the 
window,  and  he  could  not  see  her  face. 

"Why  are  you  curious  about  him  ?"  she  asked. 

"I  wish  I  knew.  I  think  only  because  he  came  from 
— Lenox." 

She  turned  her  face  slowly  round  towards  him.  He 
was  astonished  to  see  the  dark  rings  under  her  eyes,  the 
weariness  of  her  smile. 

"The  Duke  of  Souspennier,"  she  said  slowly,  "is 
an  old  and  a  dear  friend  of  mine.  When  you  tell  me 
that  he  is  in  London  I  am  anxious  because  there  are 
many  here  who  are  not  his  friends — who  have  no  cause 
to  love  him." 

"I  was  wrong  then,"  he  said,  "not  to  give  him  your 
address." 

"You  were  right,"  she  answered.  "I  am  anxious 
that  he  should  not  know  it.  You  will  remember  this  ?" 

He  rose  and  bowed  over  her  hand. 

"This  has  been  a  selfish  interlude,"  he  said.  "I  have 
destroyed  your  rest,  and  I  almost  fear  that  I  have  also 
disturbed  your  peace  of  mind.  Let  me  take  my  leave 
•yid  pray  that  you  may  recover  both." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Do  not  leave  me,"  she  said.  "I  am  low-spirited. 
You  shall  stay  and  cheer  me  up." 

There  was  a  light  in  his  eyes  which  few  people 


96        THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

would  have  recognised.  She  rose  with  a  little  laugh 
and  stood  leaning  towards  the  fire,  her  elbow  upon 
the  broad  mantel,  tall,  graceful,  alluring.  Her  soft 
crimson  gown,  with  its  wealth  of  old  lace,  fell  around 
her  in  lines  and  curves  full  of  grace.  The  pallor  of 
her  face  was  gone  now — the  warmth  of  the  fire  burned 
her  cheeks.  Her  voice  became  softer. 

"Sit  down  and  talk  to  me,"  she  murmured.  "Do 
you  remember  the  old  days,  when  you  were  a  very 
timid  young  secretary  of  Sir  George  Nomsom,  and  I 
was  a  maid-of-honour  at  the  Viennese  Court?  Dear 
me,  how  you  have  changed !" 

"Time,"  he  said,  "will  not  stand  still  for  all  of  us. 
Yet  my  memory  tells  me  how  possible  it  would  be — for 
indeed  those  da}Ts  seem  but  as  yesterday." 

He  looked  up  at  her  with  a  sudden  jealousy.  His 
tone  shook  with  passion.  No  one  would  have  recog- 
nised Brott  now.  In  his  fiercest  hour  of  debate,  his 
hour  of  greatest  trial,  he  had  worn  his  mask,  always 
master  of  himself  and  his  speech.  And  now  he  had 
cast  it  off.  His  eyes  were  hungry,  his  lips  twitched. 

"As  yesterday !  Lucille,  I  could  kill  you  when  I  think 
of  those  days.  For  twenty  years  your  kiss  has  lain 
upon  my  lips — and  you — with  you — it  has  been  dif- 
ferent." 

She  laughed  softly  upon  him,  laughed  more  with 
her  eyes  than  with  her  lips.  She  watched  him 
curiously. 

"Dear  me!"  she  murmured,  "what  would  you  have? 
I  am  a  woman — I  have  been  a  woman  all  my  days,  and 
the  memory  of  one  kiss  grows  cold.  So  I  will  admit 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON        97 

that  with  me — it  has  been  different.  Come!  What 
then?" 

He  groaned. 

"I  wonder,"  he  said,  "what  miserable  fate,  what 
cursed  stroke  of  fortune  brought  you  once  more  into 
my  life?" 

She  threw  her  head  back  and  laughed  at  him,  this 
time  heartily,  unaffectedly. 

"What  adorable  candour!"  she  exclaimed.  "My 
dear  friend,  how  amiable  you  are." 

He  looked  at  her  steadfastly,  and  somehow  the  laugh 
died  away  from  her  lips. 

"Lucille,  will  you  marry  me?" 

"Marry  you ?    I?    Certainly  not." 

"And  why  not?" 

"For  a  score  of  reasons,  if  you  want  them,"  she  an- 
swered. "First,  because  I  think  it  is  delightful  to  have 
you  for  a  friend.  I  can  never  quite  tell  what  you  are 
going  to  do  or  say.  As  a  husband  I  am  almost  sure 
that  you  would  be  monotonous.  But  then,  how  could 
you  avoid  it?  It  is  madness  to  think  of  destroying  a 
pleasant  friendship  in  such  a  manner." 

"You  are  mocking  me,"  he  said  sadly. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "why  not?  Your  own  proposal 
is  a  mockery." 

"A  mockery !    My  proposal !" 

"Yes,"  she  answered  steadily.  "You  know  quite 
well  that  the  very  thought  of  such  a  thing  between 
you  and  me  is  an  absurdity.  I  abhor  your  politics,  I 
detest  your  party.  You  are  ambitious,  I  know.  You 
intend  to  be  Prime  Minister,  a  people's  Prime  Minister. 


98        THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

Well,  for  my  part,  I  hate  the  people.  I  am  an  aristo- 
crat. As  your  wife  I  should  be  in  a  perfectly  ridic- 
ulous position.  How  foolish!  You  have  led  me  into 
talking  of  this  thing  seriously.  Let  us  forget  all  this 
rubbish." 

He  stood  before  her — waiting  patiently,  his  mouth 
close  set,  his  manner  dogged  with  purpose. 

"It  is  not  rubbish,"  he  said.  "It  is  true  that  I  shall 
be  Prime  Minister.  It  is  true  also  that  you  will  be 
my  wife." 

She  shrank  back  from  him — uneasily.  The  fire  in 
his  eyes,  the  ring  in  his  tone  distressed  her. 

"As  for  my  politics,  you  do  not  understand  them. 
But  you  shall !  I  will  convert  you  to  my  way  of  think- 
ing. Yes,  I  will  do  that.  The  cause  of  the  people, 
of  freedom,  is  the  one  great  impulse  which  beats 
through  all  the  world.  You  too  shall  hear  it." 

"Thank  you,"  she  said.  "I  have  no  wish  to  hear 
it.  I  do  not  believe  in  what  you  call  freedom  for  the 
people.  I  have  discovered  in  America  how  uncom- 
fortable a  people's  country  can  be." 

"Yet  you  married  an  American.  You  call  yourself 
still  the  Countess  Radantz  .  .  .  but  you  married 
Mr.  James  B.  Peterson !" 

"It  is  true,  my  friend,"  she  answered.  "But  the 
American  in  question  was  a  person  of  culture  and  in- 
telligence, and  at  heart  he  was  no  more  a  democrat 
than  I  am.  Further,  I  am  an  extravagant  woman,  and 
he  was  a  millionaire." 

"And  you,  after  his  death,  without  necessity — went 
to  bury  yourself  in  his  country." 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON        99 

"Why  not?" 

"I  am  jealous  of  ever3r  year  of  your  life  which  lies 
hidden  from  me,"  he  said  slowly. 

"Dear  me — how  uncomfortable !" 

"Before  you — reappeared,"  he  said,  "I  had  learnt, 
yes  I  had  learnt  to  do  without  you.  I  had  sealed  up 
the  one  chapter  of  my  life  which  had  in  it  anything  to 
do  with  sentiment.  Your  coming  has  altered  all  that. 
You  have  disturbed  the  focus  of  my  ambitions.  Lu- 
cille !  I  have  loved  you  for  more  than  half  a  lifetime. 
Isn't  it  time  I  had  my  reward?" 

He  took  a  quick  step  towards  her.  In  his  tone  was 
the  ring  of  mastery,  the  light  in  his  eyes  was  com- 
pelling. She  shrank  back,  but  he  seized  one  of  her 
hands.  It  lay  between  his,  a  cold  dead  thing. 

"What  have  my  politics  to  do  with  it?"  he  asked 
fiercely.  "You  are  not  an  Englishwoman.  Be  con- 
tent that  I  shall  set  you  far  above  these  gods  of  my 
later  life.  There  is  my  work  to  be  done,  and  I  shall 
do  it.  Let  me  be  judge  of  these  things.  Believe  me 
that  it  is  a  great  work.  If  you  are  ambitious — give 
your  ambitions  into  my  keeping,  and  I  will  gratify 
them.  Only  I  cannot  bear  this  suspense — these  chang- 
ing moods.  Marry  me — now  at  once,  or  send  me  back 
to  the  old  life." 

She  drew  her  fingers  away,  and  sank  down  into  her 
easy-chair.  Her  head  was  buried  in  her  hands.  W«s 
she  thinking  or  weeping?  He  could  not  decide.  While' 
he  hesitated  she  looked  up,  and  he  saw  that  there  was 
no  trace  of  tears  upon  her  face. 

"You  are  too  masterful,"  she  said  gently.     "I  will 


100       THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

not  marry  you.  I  will  not  give  myself  body  and  soul 
to  any  man.  Yet  that  is  what  you  ask.  I  am  not  a 
girl.  My  opinions  are  as  dear  to  me  in  their  way  as 
yours  are  to  you.  You  want  me  to  close  my  eyes  while 
you  drop  sugar  plums  into  my  mouth.  That  is  not 
my  idea  of  life.  I  think  that  you  had  better  go  away. 
Let  us  forget  these  things." 

"Very  well,"  he  answered.    "It  shall  be  as  you  say." 

He  did  not  wait  for  her  to  ring,  nor  did  he  attempt 

any  sort  of  farewell.    He  simply  took  up  his  hat,  and 

before  she  could  realise  his  intention  he  had  left  the 

room.    Lucille  sat  quite  still,  looking  into  the  fire. 

"If  only,"  she  murmured,  "if  only  this  were  the 
end." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

DUSON  entered  the  sitting-room,  noiseless  as 
ever,  with  pale,  .passionless  face,  the  ab- 
solute prototype  of  the  perfect  French 
servant,  to  whom  any  expression  of  vig- 
orous life  seems  to  savour  of  presumption.  He  carried 
a  small  silver  salver,  on  which  reposed  a  card. 

"The  gentleman  is  in  the  ante-room,  sir,"  he  an- 
nounced. 

Mr.  Sabin  took  up  the  card  and  studied  it. 

"Lord  Robert  Foulkes." 

"Do  I  know  this  gentleman,  Duson?"  Mr.  Sabin 
asked. 

"Not  to  my  knowledge,  sir,"  the  man  answered. 

"You  must  show  him  in,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  with  a 
sigh.  "In  this  country  one  must  never  be  rude  to  a 
lord." 

Duson  obeyed.  Lord  Robert  Foulkes  was  a  small 
young  man,  very  carefully  groomed,  nondescript  in 
appearance.  He  smiled  pleasantly  at  Mr.  Sabin  and 
drew  off  his  gloves. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Sabin?"  he  said.  "Don't  re- 
member me,  I  daresay.  Met  you  once  or  twice  last 
time  you  were  in  London.  I  wish  I  could  say  that  I 
was  glad  to  see  you  here  again." 

Mr.  Sabin's  forehead  lost  its  wrinkle.  He  knew 
where  he  was  now. 


102      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"Sit  down,  Lord  Robert,"  he  begged.  "I  do  not 
remember  you,  it  is  true,  but  I  am  getting  an 
old  man.  My  memory  sometimes  plays  me  strange 
tricks." 

The  young  man  looked  at  Mr.  Sabin  and  laughed 
softly.  Indeed,  Mr.  Sabin  had  very  little  the  appear- 
ance of  an  old  man.  He  was  leaning  with  both  hands 
clasped  upon  his  stick,  his  face  alert,  his  eyes  bright 
and  searching. 

"You  carry  your  years  well,  Mr.  Sabin.  Yet  while 
we  are  on  the  subject,  do  you  know  that  London  is 
the  unhealthiest  city  in  the  world?" 

"I  am  always  remarkably  well  here,"  Mr.  Sabin  said 
drily. 

"London  has  changed  since  your  last  visit,"  Lord 
Robert  said,  with  a  gentle  smile.  "Believe  me  if  I 
say — as  your  sincere  well-wisher — that  there  is  some- 
thing in  the  air  at  present  positively  unwholesome  to 
you.  I  am  not  sure  that  unwholesome  is  not  too  weak 
a  word." 

"Is  this  official?"  Mr.  Sabin  asked  quietly. 

The  young  man  fingered  the  gold  chain  which  dis- 
appeared in  his  trousers  pocket. 

"Need  I  introduce  myself?"  he  asked. 

"Quite  unnecessary,"  Mr.  Sabin  assured  him. 

"Permit  me  to  reflect  for  a  few  minutes.  Youi 
visit  comes  upon  me  as  a  surprise.  Will  you  smoke? 
There  are  cigarettes  at  your  elbow." 

"I  am  entirely  at  your  service,"  Lord  Robert  an- 
swered. "Thanks,  I  will  try  one  of  your  cigarettes. 
You  were  always  famous  for  your  tobacco." 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON      103 

There  was  a  short  silence.  Mr.  Sabin  had  sel- 
dom found  it  more  difficult  to  see  the  way  before 
him. 

"I  imagined,"  he  said  at  last,  "from  several  little 
incidents  which  occurred  previous  to  my  leaving  New 
York  that  my  presence  here  was  regarded  as  super- 
fluous. Do  you  know,  I  believe  that  I  could  convince 
you  to  the  contrary." 

Lord  Robert  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"Mr.  dear  Mr.  Sabin,"  he  said,  "pray  reflect.  I  am 
a  messenger.  No  more !  A  hired  commissionaire !" 

Mr.  Sabin  bowed. 

"You  are  an  ambassador !"  he  said. 

The  young  man  shook  his  head. 

"You  magnify  my  position,"  he  declared.  "My 
errand  is  done  when  I  remind  you  that  it  is  many 
years  since  you  visited  Paris,  that  Vienna  is  as  fasci- 
nating a  city  as  ever,  and  Pesth  a  few  hours'  journey 
beyond.  But  London — no,  London  is  not  possible  for 
you.  After  the  seventh  day  from  this  London  would 
be  worse  than  impossible." 

Mr.  Sabin  smoked  thoughtfully  for  a  few  mo- 
ments. 

"Lord  Robert,"  he  said,  "I  have,  I  believe,  the  right 
of  a  personal  appeal.  I  desire  to  make  it." 

Lord  Robert  looked  positively  distressed. 

"My  dear  sir,"  he  said,  "the  right  of  appeal,  any 
right  of  any  sort,  belongs  only  to  those  within  the 
circle." 

"Exactly,"  Mr.  Sabin  agreed.  "I  claim  to  belong 
there." 


104      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

Lord  Roberts  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"You  force  me  to  remind  you,"  he  said,  "of  a  cer- 
tain decree — a  decree  of  expulsion  passed  five  years 
ago,  and  of  which  I  presume  due  notification  was  given 
to  you." 

Mr.  Sabin  shook  his  head  very  slowly. 

"I  deny  the  legality  of  that  decree."  he  said. 
"There  can  be  no  such  thing  as  expulsion." 

"There  was  Lefanu,"  Lord  Robert  murmured. 

"He  died,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered.  "That  was  rea- 
sonable enough." 

"Your  services  had  been  great,"  Lord  Robert  said, 
"and  your  fault  was  but  venial." 

"Nevertheless,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "the  one  was 
logical,  the  other  is  not." 

"You  claim,  then,"  the  young  man  said,  "to  be  still 
within  the  circle?" 

"Certainly!" 

"You  are  aware  that  this  is  a  very  dangerous 
claim?" 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled,  but  he  said  nothing.  Lord  Rob- 
ert hastened  to  excuse  himself. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "I  should  have 
known  better  than  to  have  used  such  a  word  to  you. 
Permit  me  to  take  my  leave." 

Mr.  Sabin  rose. 

"I  thank  you,  sir,"  he  said,  "for  the  courteous  man- 
ner in  which  you  have  discharged  your  mission." 

Lord  Robert  bowed. 

"My  good  wishes,"  he  said,  "are  yours." 

Mr.  Sabin  when  alone  called  Duson  to  him. 


THE     YELLOW     CRAYON       105 

"Have  you  any  report  to  make,  Duson?"  he 
asked. 

"None,  sir!" 

Mr.  Sabin  dismissed  him  impatiently. 

"After  all,  I  am  getting  old.  He  is  young  and 
he  is  strong — a  worthy  antagonist.  Come,  let  us  see 
what  this  little  volume  has  to  say  about  him." 

He  turned  over  the  pages  rapidly  and  read  aloud. 

"Reginald  Cyril  Brott,  born  18 — ,  son  of  John 
Reginald  Brott,  Esq.,  of  Manchester.  Educated  at 
Harrow  and  Merton  College,  Cambridge,  M.A.: 
LL.D.,  and  winner  of  the  Rudlock  History  Prize. 
Also  tenth  wrangler.  Entered  the  diplomatic  service 
on  leaving  college,  and  served  as  junior  attache  at 
Vienna." 

Mr.  Sabin  laid  down  the  volume,  and  made  a  little 
calculation.  At  the  end  of  it  he  had  made  a  discovery. 
His  face  was  very  white  and  set. 

"I  was  at  Petersburg,"  he  muttered.  "Now  I  think 
of  it,  I  heard  something  of  a  young  English  attache. 
But " 

He  touched  the  bell. 

"Duson,  a  carriage!" 

At  Camperdown  House  he  learned  that  Helene  was 
out — shopping,  the  hall  porter  believed.  Mr.  Sabin 
drove  slowly  down  Bond  Street,  and  was  rewarded  by 
seeing  her  brougham  outside  a  famous  milliner's.  He 
waited  for  her  upon  the  pavement.  Presently  she  came 
out  and  smiled  her  greetings  upon  him. 

"You  were  waiting  for  me?"  she  asked. 

"I  saw  your  carriage." 


106      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"How  delightful  of  you.  Let  me  take  you  back  to 
luncheon." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"I  am  afraid,"  he  said,  "that  I  should  be  poor  com- 
pany. May  I  drive  home  with  you,  at  any  rate,  when 
you  have  finished?" 

"Of  course  you  may,  and  for  luncheon  we  shall  be 
quite  alone,  unless  somebody  drops  in." 

He  took  his  seat  beside  her  in  the  carriage. 

"Helene,"  he  said,  "I  am  interested  in  Mr.  Brott. 
No,  don't  look  at  me  like  that.  You  need  have  no  fear. 
My  interest  is  in  him  as  a  man,  and  not  as  a  politician. 
The  other  days  are  over  and  done  with  now.  I  am  on 
the  defensive — and  hard  pressed." 

Her  face  was  bright  with  sympathy.  She  forgot 
everything  except  her  old  admiration  for  him.  In 
the  clashing  of  their  wills  the  victory  had  remained 
with  her.  And  as  for  those  things  which  he  had  done, 
the  cause  at  least  had  been  a  great  one.  Her  happi- 
ness had  come  to  her  through  him.  She  bore  him  no 
grudge  for  that  fierce  opposition,  which,  after  all,  had 
been  fruitless. 

"I  believe  you,  uncle,"  she  said  affectionately.  "If 
I  can  help  you  in  any  way  I  will." 

"This  Mr.  Brott !  He  goes  very  little  into  society, 
I  believe." 

"Scarcely  ever,"  she  answered.  "He  came  to  us  be- 
cause my  husband  is  one  of  the  few  Radical  peers." 

"You  have  not  heard  of  any  recent  change  in  him— 
in  this  respect?" 

She  thought  for  a  moment. 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      107 

"Well,  I  did  hear  Wolfendon  chaffing  him  the  other 
day  about  somebody,"  she  said.  "Oh,  I  know.  He 
has  been  going  often  to  the  Duchess  of  Dorset's.  He 
is  such  an  ultra  Radical,  you  know,  and  the  Dorsets 
are  fierce  Tories.  Wolfendon  says  it  is  a  most  unwise 
thing  for  a  good  Radical  who  wants  to  retain  the  con- 
fidence of  the  people  to  be  seen  about  with  a 
Duchess." 

"The  Duchess  of  Dorset,"  Mr.  Sabin  remarked, 
"must  be,  well — a  middle-aged  woman." 

Helene  laughed. 

"She  is  sixty  if  she  is  a  day.  But  I  daresay  she 
herself  is  not  the  attraction.  There  is  a  very  beautiful 
woman  staying  with  her — the  Countess  Radantz.  A 
Hungarian,  I  believe." 

Mr.  Sabin  sat  quite  still.  Plis  face  was  turned  away 
from  Helene.  She  herself  was  smiling  out  of  the  win- 
dow at  some  acquaintances. 

"I  wonder  if  there  is  anything  more  that  I  can  tell 
you  ?"  she  asked  presently. 

He  turned  towards  her  with  a  faint  smile. 

"You  have  told  me,"  he  said,  "all  that  I  want  to 
know." 

She  was  struck  by  the  change  in  his  face,  the  quiet- 
ness of  his  tone  was  ominous. 

"Am  I  meant  to  understand?"  she  said  dubiously, 
"because  I  don't  in  the  least.  It  seems  to  me  that  I 
have  told  you  nothing.  I  cannot  imagine  what  Mr. 
Brott  and  you  have  in  common." 

"If  your  invitation  to  lunch  still  holds  good,"  he 
said,  "may  I  accept  it?  Afterwards,  if  you  can  spare 


108      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

me  a  few  minutes  I  will  make  things  quite  clear  to 
you." 

She  laughed. 

"You  will  find,"  she  declared,  "that  I  shall  leave  you 
little  peace  for  luncheon.  I  am  consumed  with  cu- 
riosity." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

NEVERTHELESS,  Mr.  Sabin  lunched  with 
discretion,  as  usual,  but  with  no  lack  of 
appetite.  It  chanced  that  they  were 
alone.  Lord  Camperdown  was  down  in 
the  Midlands  for  a  day's  hunting,  and  Helene  had  en- 
sured their  seclusion  from  any  one  who  might  drop  in 
by  a  whispered  word  to  the  hall  porter  as  they  passed 
into  the  house.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  never 
found  Mr.  Sabin  more  entertaining,  had  never  more 
appreciated  his  rare  gift  of  effortless  and  anecdotal 
conversation.  What  a  marvellous  memory !  He  knew 
something  of  every  country  from  the  inside.  He  had 
been  brought  at  various  times  during  his  long  diplo- 
matic career  into  contact  with  most  of  the  interesting 
people  in  the  world.  He  knew  well  how  to  separate  the 
grain  from  the  chaff  according  to  the  tastes  of  his 
listener.  The  pathos  of  his  present  position  appealed 
to  her  irresistibly.  The  possibilities  of  his  life  had 
been  so  great,  fortune  had  treated  him  always  so 
strangely.  The  greatest  of  his  schemes  had  come  so 
near  to  success,  the  luck  had  turned  against  him  only 
at  the  very  moment  of  fruition.  Helene  felt  very 
kindly  towards  her  uncle  as  she  led  him,  after  luncheon, 
to  a  quiet  corner  of  the  winter  garden,  where  a  servant 
had  already  arranged  a  table  with  coffee  and  liqueurs 
and  cigarettes.  Unscrupulous  all  his  life,  there  had 


110      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

been  an  element  of  greatness  in  all  his  schemes.  Even 
his  failures  had  been  magnificent,  for  his  successes  he 
himself  had  seldom  reaped  the  reward.  And  now  in 
the  autumn  of  his  days  she  felt  dimly  that  he  was 
threatened  with  some  evil  thing  against  which  he  stood 
at  bay  single-handed,  likely  perhaps  to  be  overpow- 
ered. For  there  was  something  in  his  face  just  now 
which  was  strange  to  her. 

"Helene,"  he  said  quietly,  "I  suppose  that  you, 
who  knew  nothing  of  me  till  you  left  school,  have 
looked  upon  me  always  as  a  selfish,  passionless  creature 
— a  weaver  of  plots,  perhaps  sometimes  a  dreamer  of 
dreams,  but  a  person  wholly  self-centred,  always  self- 
engrossed?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Not  selfish!"  she  objected.  "No,  I  never  thought 
that.  It  is  the  wrong  word." 

"At  least,"  he  said,  "you  will  be  surprised  to  hear 
that  I  have  loved  one  woman  all  my  life." 

She  looked  at  him  half  doubtfully. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  am  surprised  to  hear  that." 

"I  will  surprise  you  still  more.  I  was  married  to 
her  in  America  within  a  month  of  my  arrival  there. 
We  have  lived  together  ever  since.  And  I  have  been 
very  happy.  I  speak,  of  course,  of  Lucille !" 

"It  is  amazing,"  she  murmured.  "You  must  tell  me 
all  about  it." 

"Not  all,"  he  answered  sadly.  "Only  this.  I  met 
her  first  at  Vienna  when  I  was  thirty-five,  and  she  was 
eighteen.  I  treated  her  shamefully.  Marriage  seemed 
to  me,  with  all  my  dreams  of  great  achievements,  an 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      111 

act  of  madness.  I  believed  in  myself  and  my  career. 
I  believed  that  it  was  my  destiny  to  restore  the  mon- 
archy to  our  beloved  country.  And  I  wanted  to  be 
free.  I  think  that  I  saw  mj'self  a  second  Napoleon. 
So  I  won  her  love,  took  all  that  she  had  to  give,  and 
returned  nothing. 

"In  the  course  of  years  she  married  the  son  of  the 
American  Consul  at  Vienna.  I  was  obliged,  by  the 
bye,  to  fight  her  brother,  and  he  carried  his  enmity  to 
me  through  life.  I  saw  her  sometimes  in  the  course  of 
years.  She  was  always  beautiful,  always  surrounded 
by  a  host  of  admirers,  always  cold.  When  the  end  of 
my  great  plans  here  came,  and  I  myself  was  a  fugitive, 
her  brother  found  me  out.  He  gave  me  a  letter  to  de- 
liver in  America.  I  delivered  it — to  his  sister. 

"She  was  as  beautiful  as  ever,  and  alone  in  the 
world.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  realised  then  how  great 
my  folly  had  been.  For  always  I  had  loved  her,  al- 
ways there  had  been  that  jealously  locked  little  cham- 
ber in  my  life.  Helene,  she  pointed  no  finger  of  scorn 
to  my  broken  life.  She  uttered  no  reproaches.  She 
took  me  as  I  was,  and  for  three  years  our  life  together 
has  been  to  me  one  long  unbroken  harmony.  Our 
tastes  were  very  similar.  She  was  well  read,  receptive, 
a  charming  companion.  Ennui  was  a  word  of  which 
I  have  forgotten  the  meaning.  And  it  seemed  so  with 
her,  too,  for  she  grew  younger  and  more  beautiful." 

"And  why  is  she  not  with  you?"  Helene  cried.  "I 
must  go  and  see  her.  How  delightful  it  sounds !" 

"One  day,  about  three  months  ago,"  Mr.  Sabin  con- 
tinued, "she  left  me  to  go  to  New  York  for  two  days. 


THE     YELLOW     CRAYON 

Her  milliner  in  Paris  had  sent  over,  and  twice  a 
year  Lucille  used  to  buy  clothes.  I  had  sometimes  ac- 
companied her,  but  she  knew  how  I  detested  New  York, 
and  this  time  she  did  not  press  me  to  go.  She  left  me 
in  the  highest  spirits,  as  tender  and  gracefully  affec- 
tionate as  ever.  She  never  returned." 

Helene  started  in  her  chair. 

"Oh,  uncle !"  she  cried. 

"I  have  never  seen  her  since,"  he  repeated. 

"Have  you  no  clue?  She  could  not  have  left  you 
willingly.  Have  you  no  idea  where  she  is?" 

He  bowed  his  head  slowly. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  know  where  she  is.  She  came  to 
Europe  with  Lady  Carey.  She  is  staying  with  the 
Duchess  of  Dorset." 

"The  Countess  Radantz  ?"  Helene  cried. 

"It  was  her  maiden  name,"  he  answered. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Helene  was  be- 
wildered. 

"Then  you  have  seen  her?" 

He  shook  his  head  slowly. 

"No.  I  did  not  even  know  where  she  was  until  you 
told  me." 

"But  why  do  you  wait  a  single  moment  ?"  she  asked. 
"There  must  be  some  explanation.  Let  me  order  a 
carriage  now.  I  will  drive  round  to  Dorset  House  with 
you." 

She  half  rose.  He  held  out  his  hand  and  checked 
her. 

"There  are  other  things  to  be  explained,"  he  said 
quickly.  "Sit  down,  Helene." 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      113 

She  obeyed  him,  mystified. 

"For  your  own  sake,"  he  continued,  "there  are  cer- 
tain facts  in  connection  with  this  matter  which  I  must 
withhold.  All  I  can  tell  you  is  this.  There  are  people 
who  have  acquired  a  hold  upon  Lucille  so  great  that 
she  is  forced  to  obey  their  bidding.  Lady  Carey  is 
one,  the  Duchess  of  Dorset  is  another.  They  are  no 
friends  of  mine,  and  apparently  Lucille  has  been  taken 
away  from  me  by  them." 

"A — a  hold  upon  her  ?"  Helene  repeated  vaguely. 

"It  is  all  I  can  tell  you.  You  must  suppose  an  ex- 
treme case.  You  may  take  my  word  for  it  that  under 
certain  circumstances  Lucille  would  have  no  power  to 
deny  them  anything." 

"But — without  a  word  of  farewell.  They  could  not 
insist  upon  her  leaving  you  like  that!  It  is  incred- 
ible !" 

"It  is  quite  possible,"  Mr.  Sabin  said. 

Helene  caught  herself  looking  at  him  stealthily. 
Was  it  possible  that  this  wonderful  brain  had  given 
way  at  last?  There  were  no  signs  of  it  in  his  face 
or  expression.  But  the  Duchess  of  Dorset!  Lady 
Carey !  These  were  women  of  her  own  circle — 
Londoners,  and  the  Duchess,  at  any  rate,  a  woman  of 
the  very  highest  social  position  and  unimpeached  con- 
ventionality. 

"This  sounds — very  extraordinary,  uncle!"  she  re- 
marked a  little  lamely. 

"It  is  extraordinary,"  he  answered  drily.  "I  do  not 
wonder  that  you  find  it  hard  to  believe  me.  I " 

"Not  to  believe — to  understand!" 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

He  smiled. 

"We  will  not  distingush!  After  all,  what  does  it 
matter?  Assume,  if  you  cannot  believe,  that  Lucille's 
leaving  me  may  have  been  at  the  instigation  of  these 
people,  and  therefore  involuntary.  If  this  be  so  I  have 
a  hard  battle  to  fight  to  win  her  back,  but  in  the  end  I 
shall  do  it." 

She  nodded  sympathetically. 

"I  am  sure,"  she  said,  "that  you  will  not  find  it  dif- 
ficult. Tell  me,  cannot  I  help  you  in  any  way?  I 
know  the  Duchess  very  well  indeed — well  enough  to 
take  you  to  call  quite  informally  if  you  please.  She 
is  a  great  supporter  of  what  they  call  the  Primrose 
League  here.  I  do  not  understand  what  it  is  all  about, 
but  it  seems  that  I  may  not  join  because  my  husband 
is  a  Radical." 

Mr.  Sabin  looked  for  a  moment  over  his  clasped 
hands  through  the  faint  blue  cloud  of  cigarette  smoke, 
and  sundry  possibilities  flashed  through  his  mind  to 
be  at  once  rejected.  He  shook  his  head. 

"No!"  he  said  firmly.  "I  do  not  wish  for  your 
help  at  present,  directly  or  indirectly.  If  you  meet 
the  Countess  I  would  rather  that  you  did  not  mention 
my  name.  There  is  only  one  person  whom,  if  you  met 
at  Dorset  House  or  anywhere  where  Lucille  is,  I  would 
ask  you  to  watch.  That  is  Mr.  Brott !" 

It  was  to  be  a  conversation  full  of  surprises  for 
Helene.  Mr.  Brott !  Her  hand  went  up  to  her  fore- 
head for  a  moment,  and  a  little  gesture  of  bewilder- 
ment escaped  her. 

"Will  you  tell   me,"  she  asked   almost  plaintively, 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON      115 

"what  on  earth  Mr.  Brott  can  have  to  do  with  this 
business — with  Lucille — with  you — with  any  one  con- 
nected with  it?" 

Mr.  Sabin  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Mr.  Brott,"  he  remarked,  "a  Cabinet  Minister  of 
marked  Radical  proclivities,  has  lately  been  a  frequent 
visitor  at  Dorset  House,  which  is  the  very  home  of  the 
old  aristocratic  Toryism.  Mr.  Brott  was  acquainted 
with  Lucille  many  years  ago — in  Vienna.  At  that 
time  he  was,  I  believe,  deeply  interested  in  her.  I  must 
confess  that  Mr.  Brott  causes  me  some  uneasi- 
ness." 

"I  think — that  men  always  know,"  Helene  said,  "if 
they  care  to.  Was  Lucille  happy  with  you?" 

"Absolutely.    I  am  sure  of  it." 

"Then  your  first  assumption  must  be  correct,"  she 
declared.  "You  cannot  explain  things  to  me,  so  I  can- 
not help  you  even  with  my  advice.  I  am  sorry." 

He  turned  his  head  towards  her  and  regarded  her 
critically,  as  though  making  some  test  of  her  sin- 
cerity. 

"Helene,"  he  said  gravely,  "it  is  for  your  own  sake 
that  I  do  not  explain  further,  that  I  do  not  make 
things  clearer  to  you.  Only  I  wanted  you  to  under- 
stand why  I  once  more  set  foot  in  Europe.  I  wanted 
you  to  understand  why  I  am  here.  It  is  to  win  back 
Lucille.  It  is  like  that  with  me,  Helene.  I,  who  once 
schemed  and  plotted  for  an  empire,  am  once  more  a 
schemer  and  a  worker,  but  for  no  other  purpose  than 
to  recover  possession  of  the  woman  whom  I  love.  You 
do  not  recognise  me,  Helene.  I  do  not  recognise  my- 


116      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

self.  Nevertheless,  I  would  have  you  know  the  truth. 
I  am  here  for  that,  and  for  no  other  purpose." 

He  rose  slowly  to  his  feet.  She  held  out  both  her 
hands  and  grasped  his. 

"Let  me  help  you,"  she  begged.  "Do !  This  is  not 
a  matter  of  politics  or  anything  compromising.  I  am 
sure  that  I  could  be  useful  to  you." 

"So  you  can,"  he  answered  quietly.  "Do  as  I  have 
asked  you.  Watch  Mr.  Brott !" 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MR.  BROTT  and  Mr.  Sabin  dined  together 
— not,  as  it  happened,  at  the  House  of 
Commons,  but  at  the  former's  club  in 
Pall  Mall.  For  Mr.  Sabin  it  was  not 
altogether  an  enjoyable  meal.  The  club  was  large, 
gloomy  and  political ;  the  cooking  was  exactly  of  that 
order  which  such  surroundings  seemed  to  require. 
Nor  was  Mr.  Brott  a  particularly  brilliant  host.  Yet 
his  guest  derived  a  certain  amount  of  pleasure  from 
the  entertainment,  owing  to  Brott's  constant  endeav- 
ours to  bring  the  conversation  round  to  Lucille. 

"I  find,"  he  said,  as  they  lit  their  cigarettes,  "that 
I  committed  an  indiscretion  the  other  day  at  Camper- 
down  House !" 

Mr.  Sabin  assumed  the  puzzled  air  of  one  endeav- 
ouring to  pin  down  an  elusive  memory. 

"Let  me  see,"  he  murmured  doubtfully.  "It  was 
in  connection  with " 

"The  Countess  Radantz.  If  you  remember,  I  told 
you  that  it  was  her  desire  just  now  to  remain  incog- 
nito. I,  however,  unfortunately  forgot  this  during 
the  course  of  our  conversation." 

"Yes,  I  remember.  You  told  me  where  she  was  stay- 
ing. But  the  Countess  and  I  are  old  acquaintances. 
I  feel  sure  that  she  did  not  object  to  your  having 
given  me  her  address.  I  could  not  possibly  leave  Lon- 
don without  calling  upon  her." 


1.18      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

Mr.  Brott  moved  in  his  chair  uneasily. 

"It  seems  presumption  on  my  part  to  make  such  a 
suggestion  perhaps,"  he  said  slowly,  "but  I  really  be- 
lieve that  the  Countess  is  in  earnest  with  reference  to 
her  desire  for  seclusion  just  at  present.  I  believe  that 
she  is  really  very  anxious  that  her  presence  in  London 
just  now  should  not  be  generally  known." 

"I  am  such  a  very  old  friend,"  Mr.  Sabin  said.  "I 
knew  her  when  she  was  a  child." 

Mr.  Brott  nodded. 

"It  is  very  strange,"  he  said,  "that  you  should  have 
come  together  again  in  such  a  country  as  America, 
and  in  a  small  town  too." 

"Lenox,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "is  a  small  place,  but  a 
great  center.  By  the  bye,  is  there  not  some  question 
of  an  impending  marriage  on  the  part  of  the  Coun- 
tess?" 

"I  have  heard — of  nothing  of  the  sort,"  Mr.  Brott 
said,  looking  up  startled.  Then,  after  a  moment's 
pause,  during  which  he  studied  closely  his  companion's 
imperturbable  face,  he  added  the  question  which 
forced  its  way  to  his  lips. 

"Have  you?" 

Mr.  Sabin  looked  along  his  cigarette  and  pinched 
it  affectionately.  It  was  one  of  his  own,  which  he  had 
dexterously  substituted  for  those  which  his  host  had 
placed  at  his  disposal. 

"The  Countess  is  a  very  charming,  a  very  beautiful, 
and  a  most  attractive  woman,"  he  said  slowly.  "Her 
marriage  has  always  seemed  to  me  a  matter  of  cer- 
tainty." 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      fci 

Mr.  Brott  hesitated,  and  was  lost. 

"You  are  an  old  friend  of  hers,"  he  said.  "You 
perhaps  know  more  of  her  recent  history  than  I  do. 
For  a  time  she  seemed  to  drop  out  of  my  life  alto- 
gether. Now  that  she  has  come  back  I  am  very 
anxious  to  persuade  her  to  marry  me." 

A  single  lightning-like  flash  in  Mr.  Sabine's  eyes 
for  a  moment  disconcerted  his  host.  But,  after  all,  it 
was  gone  with  such  amazing  suddenness  that  it  left 
behind  it  a  sense  of  unreality.  Mr.  Brott  decided  that 
after  all  it  must  have  been  fancy. 

"May  I  ask,"  Mr.  Sabin  said  quietly,  "whether 
the  Countess  appears  to  receive  your  suit  with 
favour?" 

Mr.  Brott  hesitated. 

"I  am  afraid  I  cannot  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  she 
does,"  he  said  regretfully.  "I  do  not  know  why  I 
find  myself  talking  on  this  matter  to  you.  I  feel  that 
I  should  apologise  for  giving  such  a  personal  turn  to 
the  conversation." 

"I  beg  that  you  will  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  Mr. 
Sabin  protested.  "I  am,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  most 
deeply  interested." 

"You  encourage  me,"  Mr.  Brott  declared,  "to  ask 
you  a  question — to  me  a  very  important  question." 

"It  will  give  me  great  pleasure,"  Mr.  Sabin  assured 
him,  "if  I  am  able  to  answer  it." 

"You  know,"  Mr.  Brott  said,  "of  that  portion  of 
her  life  concerning  which  I  have  asked  no  questions, 
but  which  somehow,  whenever  I  think  of  it,  fills  me 
with  a  certain  amount  of  uneasiness.  I  refer  to  the 


1*0      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

last  three  years  which  the  Countess  has  spent  in 
America." 

Mr.  Sabin  looked  up,  and  his  lips  seemed  to  move, 
but  he  said  nothing.  Mr.  Brott  felt  perhaps  that  he 
was  on  difficult  ground. 

"I  recognise  the  fact,"  he  continued  slowly,  "that 
you  are  the  friend  of  the  Countess,  and  that  you  and  I 
are  nothing  more  than  the  merest  acquaintances.  I 
ask  my  question  therefore  with  some  diffidence.  Can 
you  tell  me  from  your  recent,  more  intimate  knowledge 
of  the  Countess  and  her  affairs,  whether  there  exists 
any  reason  outside  her  own  inclinations  why  she  should 
not  accept  my  proposals  of  marriage?" 

Mr.  Sabin  had  the  air  of  a  man  gravely  surprised. 
He  shook  his  head  very  slightly. 

"You  must  not  ask  me  such  a  question  as  that,  Mr. 
Brott,"  he  said.  "It  is  not  a  subject  which  I  could 
possibly  discuss  with  you.  But  I  have  no  objection 
to  going  so  far  as  this.  My  experience  of  the  Countess 
is  that  she  is  a  woman  of  magnificent  and  effective  will 
power.  I  think  if  she  has  any  desire  to  marry  you 
there  are  or  could  be  no  obstacles  existing  which  she 
would  not  easily  dispose  of." 

"There  are  obstacles,  then  ?" 

"You  must  not  ask  me  that,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  with 
a  certain  amount  of  stiffness.  "The  Countess  is  a  very 
dear  friend  of  mine,  and  you  must  forgive  me  now 
if  I  say  that  I  prefer  not  to  discuss  her  any 
longer." 

A  hall  servant  entered  the  room,  bearing  a  note  for 
Mr.  Brott.  He  received  it  at  first  carelessly,  but  his 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      121 

expression  changed  the  moment  he  saw  the  superscrip- 
tion. He  turned  a  little  away,  and  Mr.  Sabin  noticed 
that  the  fingers  which  tore  open  the  envelope  were 
trembling.  The  note  seemed  short  enough,  but  he 
must  have  read  it  half  a  dozen  times  before  at  last  he 
turned  round  to  the  messenger. 

"There  is  no  answer,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone. 

He  folded  the  note  and  put  it  carefully  into  his 
breast  pocket.  Mr.  Sabin  subdued  an  insane  desire 
to  struggle  with  him  and  discover,  by  force,  if  neces- 
sary, who  was  the  sender  of  those  few  brief  lines.  For 
Mr.  Brott  was  a  changed  man. 

"I  am  afraid,"  he  said,  turning  to  his  guest,  "that 
this  has  been  a  very  dull  evening  for  you.  To  tell  you 
the  truth,  this  club  is  not  exactly  the  haunt  of  pleas- 
ure-seekers. It  generally  oppresses  me  for  the  first 
hour  or  so.  Would  you  like  a  hand  at  bridge,  or  a 
game  of  billiards  ?  I  am  wholly  at  your  service — until 
twelve  o'clock." 

Mr.  Sabin  glanced  at  the  clock. 

"You  are  very  good,"  he  said,  "but  I  was  never 
much  good  at  indoor  games.  Golf  has  been  my  only 
relaxation  for  many  years.  Besides,  I  too  have  an  en- 
gagement, for  which  I  must  leave  in  a  very  few 
minutes." 

"It  is  very  good  of  you,"  Mr.  Brott  said,  "to  have 
given  me  the  pleasure  of  your  company.  I  have  the 
greatest  possible  admiration  for  your  niece,  Mr.  Sabin, 
and  Camperdown  is  a  thundering  good  fellow.  He 
will  be  our  leader  in  the  House  of  Lords  before  many 
years  have  passed." 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"He  is,  I  believe,"  Mr.  Sabin  remarked,  "of  the 
same  politics  as  yourself." 

"We  are  both,"  Mr.  Brott  answered,  with  a  smile, 
"I  am  afraid  outside  the  pale  of  your  consideration 
in  this  respect.  We  are  both  Radicals." 

Mr.  Sabin  lit  another  cigarette  and  glanced  once 
more  at  the  clock. 

"A  Radical  peer !"  he  remarked.  "Isn't  that  rather 
an  anomaly?  The  principles  of  Radicalism  and  aris- 
tocracy seem  so  divergent." 

"Yet,"  Mr.  Brott  said,  "they  are  not  wholly  irre- 
concilable. I  have  often  wished  that  this  could  be  more 
generally  understood.  I  find  myself  at  times  very  un- 
popular with  people,  whose  good  opinion  I  am  anxious 
to  retain,  simply  owing  to  this  too  general  misappre- 
hension." 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled  gently. 

"You  were  referring  without  doubt — "  he  began. 

"To  the  Countess,"  Brott  admitted.  "Yes,  it  is  true. 
But  after  all,"  he  added  cheerfully,  "I  believe  that  our 
disagreements  are  mainly  upon  the  surface.  The 
Countess  is  a  woman  of  wide  culture  and  understand- 
ing. Her  mind,  too,  is  plastic.  She  has  few 
prejudices." 

Mr.  Sabin  glanced  at  the  clock  for  the  third  time, 
and  rose  to  his  feet.  He  was  quite  sure  now  that  the 
note  was  from  her.  He  leaned  on  his  stick  and  took 
his  leave  quietly.  All  the  time  he  was  studying  his 
host,  wondering  at  his  air  of  only  partially  suppressed 
excitement. 

"I  must  thank  you  very  much,  Mr.  Brott,"  he  said, 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      123 

"for  your  entertainment.  I  trust  that  you  will  give 
me  an  opportunity  shortly  of  reciprocating  your  hos- 
pitality." 

The  two  men  parted  finally  in  the  hall.  Mr.  Sabin 
stepped  into  his  hired  carriage. 

"Dorset  House !"  he  directed. 


r   | 


CHAPTER  XVII 

4  £  r  |  1  HIS  little  difference  of  opinion,"  the 
Prince  remarked,  looking  thought- 
fully through  the  emerald  green  of 
his  liqueur,"  interests  me.  Our 
friend  Dolinski  here  thinks  that  he  will  not  coine  be- 
cause he  will  be  afraid.  De  Brouillac,  on  the  contrary, 
says  that  he  will  not  come  because  he  is  too  sagacious. 
Felix  here,  who  knows  him  best,  says  that  he  will  not 
come  because  he  prefers  ever  to  play  the  game  from 
outside  the  circle,  a  looker-on  to  all  appearance,  yet 
sometimes  wielding  an  unseen  force.  It  is  a  strong 
position  that." 

Lucille  raised  her  head  and  regarded  the  last  speaker 
steadily. 

"And  I,  Prince !"  she  exclaimed,  "I  say  that  he  will 
come  because  he  is  a  man,  and  because  he  does  not  know 
fear." 

The  Prince  of  Saxe  Leinitzer  bowed  low  towards  the 
speaker. 

"Dear  Lucille,"  he  said,  so  respectfully  that  the 
faint  irony  of  his  tone  was  lost  to  most  of  those  pres- 
ent, "I,  too,  am  of  your  opinion.  The  man  whe  has 
a  right,  real  or  fancied,  to  claim  you  must  indeed  be  a 
coward  if  he  suffered  dangers  of  any  sort  to  stand  in 
the  way.  After  all,  dangers  from  us !  Is  it  not  a  little 
absurd?" 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON       125 

Lucille  looked  away  from  the  Prince  with  a  little 
shudder.  He  laughed  softly,  and  drank  his  liqueur. 
Afterwards  he  leaned  back  for  a  moment  in  his  chair 
and  glanced  thoughtfully  around  at  the  assembled 
company  as  though  anxious  to  impress  upon  his 
memory  all  who  were  present.  It  was  a  little  group, 
every  member  of  which  bore  a  well-known  name. 
Their  host,  the  Duke  of  Dorset,  in  whose  splendid 
library  they  were  assembled,  was,  if  not  the  premier 
duke  of  the  United  Kingdom,  at  least  one  of  those 
whose  many  hereditary  offices  and  ancient  family 
entitled  him  to  a  foremost  place  in  the  aristocracy  of 
the  world.  Raoul  de  Brouillac,  Count  of  Orleans, 
bore  a  name  which  was  scarcely  absent  from  a  single 
page  of  the  martial  history  of  France.  The  Prince 
of  Saxe  Leinitzer  kept  up  still  a  semblance  of  royalty 
in  the  State  which  his  ancestors  had  ruled  with 
despotic  power.  Lady  Muriel  Carey  was  a  younger 
daughter  of  a  ducal  house,  which  had  more  than  once 
intermarried  with  Ro}ralty.  The  others,  too,  had  their 
claims  to  be  considered  amongst  the  greatest  families 
of  Europe. 

The  Prince  glanced  at  his  watch,  and  then  at  the 
bridge  tables  ready  set  out. 

"I  think,"  he  said,  "that  a  little  diversion — what 
does  our  hostess  say?" 

"Two  sets  can  start  at  least,"  the  Duchess  said. 
"Lucille  and  I  will  stay  out,  and  the  Count  de  Brouil- 
lac does  not  play." 

The  Prince  rose. 

"It  is  agreed,"  he  said.     "Duke,  will  you  honour 


126      THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

me?  Felix  and  Dollnski  are  our  ancient  adversaries. 
It  should  be  an  interesting  trial  of  strength." 

There  was  a  general  movement,  a  re-arrangement 
of  seats,  and  a  little  buzz  of  conversation.  Then 
silence.  Lucille  sat  back  in  a  great  chair,  and  Lady 
Carey  came  over  to  her  side. 

"You  are  nervous  to-night,  Lucille,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  I  am  nervous,"  Lucille  admitted.  "Why  not  ? 
At  any  moment  he  may  be  here." 

"And  you  care — so  much?"  Lady  Carey  said,  with 
a  hard  little  laugh. 

"I  care  so  much,"  Lucille  echoed. 

Lady  Carey  shook  out  her  amber  satin  skirt  and 
sat  down  upon  a  low  divan.  She  held  up  her  hands, 
small  white  hands,  ablaze  with  jewels,  and  looked  at 
them  for  a  moment  thoughtfully. 

"He  was  very  much  in  earnest  when  I  saw  him  at 
Sherry's  in  New  York,"  she  remarked,  "and  he  was 
altogether  too  clever  for  Mr.  Horser  and  our  friends 
there.  After  all  their  talk  and  boasting  too.  Why, 
they  are  ignorant  of  the  very  elements  of  intrigue." 

Lucille  sighed. 

"Here,"  she  said,  "it  is  different.  The  Prince  and 
he  are  ancient  rivals,  and  Raoul  de  Brouillac  is  no 
longer  his  friend.  Muriel,  I  am  afraid  of  what  may 
happen." 

Lady  Carey  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"He  is  no  fool,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone.  "He  will 
not  come  here  with  a  magistrate's  warrant  and  a 
policeman  to  back  it  up,  nor  will  he  attempt  to  turn 
the  thing  into  an  Adelphi  drama.  I  know  him  well 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON       127 

enough  to  be  sure  that  he  will  attempt  nothing  crude. 
Lucille,  don't  you  find  it  exhilarating?" 

"Exhilarating  ?    But  why  ?" 

"It  will  be  a  game  played  through  to  the  end  by 
masters,  and  you,  my  dear  woman,  are  the  inspira- 
tion. I  think  that  it  is  most  fascinating." 

Lucille  looked  sadly  into  the  fire. 

"I  think,"  she  said,  "that  I  am  weary  of  all  these 
things.  I  seem  to  have  lived  such  a  very  long  time. 
At  Lenox  I  was  quite  happy.  Of  my  own  will  I 
would  never  have  left  it." 

Lady  Carey's  thin  lips  curled  a  little,  her  blue  eyes 
were  full  of  scorn.  She  was  not  altogether  a  pleasant 
woman  to  look  upon.  Her  cheeks  were  thin  and  hol- 
low, her  eyes  a  little  too  prominent,  some  hidden  ex- 
pression which  seemed  at  times  to  flit  from  one  to  the 
other  of  her  features  suggested  a  sensuality  which  was 
a  little  incongruous  with  her  somewhat  angular  figure 
and  generally  cold  demeanour.  But  that  she  was  a 
woman  of  courage  and  resource  history  had  proved. 

"How  idyllic!"  she  exclaimed.  "Positively  med- 
iaeval !  Fane}'  living  with  one  man  three  years." 

Lucille  smiled. 

"Why  not?  I  never  knew  a  woman  yet,  however 
cold,  however  fond  of  change,  who  had  not  at  some 
time  or  other  during  her  life  met  a  man  for  whose  sake 
she  would  have  done — what  I  did.  I  have  had  as  many 
admirers — as  many  lovers,  I  suppose,  as  most  women. 
But  I  can  truthfully  say  that  during  the  last  three 
years  no  thought  of  one  of  them  has  crossed  my  mind." 

Lady  Carey  laughed  scornfully. 


"Upon  my  word,"  she  said.  "If  the  Prince  had  not 
a  temper,  and  if  they  were  not  playing  for  such 
ruinous  points,  I  would  entertain  them  all  with  these 
delightful  confidences.  By  the  bye,  the  Prince  him- 
self was  once  one  of  those  who  fell  before  your  chariot 
wheels,  was  he  not?  Look  at  him  now — sideways. 
What  does  he  remind  you  of?" 

Lucille  raised  her  eyes. 

"A  fat  angel,"  she  answered,  "or  something  equally 
distasteful.  How  I  hate  those  mild  eyes  and  that 
sweet,  slow  smile.  I  saw  him  thrash  a  poor  beater  once 
in  the  Saxe  Leinitzer  forests.  Ugh !" 

"I  should  not  blame  him  for  that,"  Lady  Carey 
said  coldly.  "I  like  masterful  men,  even  to  the  point 
of  cruelty.  General  Dolinski  there  fascinates  me.  I 
believe  that  he  keeps  a  little  private  knout  at  home  for 
his  wife  and  children.  A  wicked  little  contrivance  with 
an  ivory  handle.  I  should  like  to  see  him  use  it." 

Lucille  shuddered.  This  tete-a-tete  did  not  amuse 
her.  She  rose  and  looked  over  one  of  the  bridge  tables 
for  a  minute.  The  Prince,  who  was  dealing,  looked 
up  with  a  smile. 

"Be  my  good  angel,  Countess,"  he  begged.  "For- 
tune has  deserted  me  to-night.  You  shall  be  the  god- 
dess of  chance,  and  smile  your  favours  upon  me." 

A  hard  little  laugh  came  from  the  chair  where  Lady 
Carey  sat.  She  turned  her  head  towards  them,  and 
there  was  a  malicious  gleam  in  her  eyes. 

"Too  late,  Prince,"  she  exclaimed.  "The  favours 
of  the  Countess  are  all  given  away.  Lucille  has  be- 
come even  as  one  of  those  flaxen-haired  dolls  of  your 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON      129 

mountain  villages.  She  has  given  her  heart  away, 
and  she  is  sworn  to  perpetual  constancy." 

The  Prince  smiled. 

"The  absence,"  he  said,  glancing  up  at  the  clock, 
"of  that  most  fortunate  person  should  surely  count 
in  our  favour." 

Lucille  followed  his  eyes.  The  clock  was  striking 
ten.  She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"If  the  converse  also  is  time,  Prince,"  she  said,  "you 
can  scarcely  have  anything  to  hope  for  from  me.  For 
*>y  half-past  ten  he  will  be  here." 

The  Prince  picked  up  his  cards  and  sorted  them 
mechanically. 

"We  shall  see,"  he  remarked.  "It  is  true,  Countess, 
that  you  are  here,  but  in  this  instance  you  are  set  with 
thorns." 

"To  continue  the  allegory,  Prince,"  she  answered, 
passing  on  to  the  next  table,  "also  with  poisonous 
berries.  But  to  the  hand  which  has  no  fear,  neither 
are  harmful." 

The  Prince  laid  down  his  hand. 

"Now  I  really  believe,"  he  said  gently,  "that  she 
meant  to  be  rude.  Partner,  I  declare  hearts !" 

Felix  was  standing  out  from  the  next  table  whilst 
has  hand  was  being  played  by  General  Dolinski,  his 
partner.  He  drew  her  a  little  on  one  side. 

"Do  not  irritate  Saxe  Leinitzer,"  he  whispered. 
"Remember,  everything  must  rest  with  him.  Twice 
to-night  you  have  brought  that  smile  to  his  lips,  and 
I  never  see  it  without  thinking  of  unpleasant  things." 

"You  are  right,"  she  answered;  "but  I  hate  him  so. 


130      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

He  and  Muriel  Carey  seem  to  have  entered  into  some 
conspiracy  to  lead  me  on  to  say  things  which  I  might 
regret." 

"Saxe  Leinitzer,"  he  said,  "has  never  forgotten 
that  he  once  aspired  to  be  your  lover." 

"He  has  not  failed  to  let  me  know  it,"  she  an- 
swered. "He  has  even  dared — ah!" 

There  was  a  sudden  stir  in  the  room.  The  library 
door  was  thrown  open.  The  solemn-visaged  butler 
stood  upon  the  threshold. 

"His  Grace  the  Duke  of  Souspennier !"  he  an- 
nounced. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


W~~    "^HERE  was  for  the  moment  a  dead  silence. 

The  soft  patter  of  cards  no  longer  fell 

upon  the  table.     The  eyes  of  every  one 

were  turned  upon  the  newcomer.     And  he, 

leaning  upon  his  stick,  looked  only  for  one  person, 

and,  having  found  her,  took  no  heed  of  any  one  else. 

"Lucille !" 

She  rose  from  her  seat  and  stood  with  hands  out- 
stretched towards  him,  her  lips  parted  in  a  delightful 
smile,  her  eyes  soft  with  happiness. 

"Victor,  welcome !  It  is  like  you  to  have  found 
me,  and  I  knew  that  you  would  come." 

He  raised  her  fingers  to  his  lips — tenderly — with 
the  grace  of  a  prince,  but  all  the  affection  of  a  lover. 
What  he  said  to  her  none  could  hear,  for  his  voice  was 
lowered  almost  to  a  whisper.  But  the  colour  stained 
her  cheeks,  and  her  blush  was  the  blush  of  a  girl. 

A  movement  of  the  Duchess  recalled  him  to  a  sense 
of  his  social  duty.  He  turned  courteously  to  her  with 
extended  hand. 

"I  trust,"  he  said,  "that  I  may  be  forgiven  my 
temporary  fit  of  aberration.  I  cannot  thank  you 
sufficiently,  Duchess,  for  your  kind  invitation." 

Her  answering  smile  was  a  little  dubious. 

"I  am  sure,"  she  said,  "that  we  are  delighted  to 
welcome  back  amongst  us  so  old  and  valued  a  friend. 
I  suppose  you  know  every  one?" 


132      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

Mr.  Sabin  looked  searchingly  around,  exchanging 
bows  with  those  whose  faces  were  familiar  to  him. 
But  between  him  and  the  Prince  of  Saxe  Leinitzer 
there  passed  no  pretence  at  any  greeting.  The  two 
men  eyed  one  another  for  a  moment  coldly.  Each 
seemed  to  be  trying  to  read  the  other  through. 

"I  believe,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "that  I  have  that  priv- 
ilege. I  see,  however,  that  I  am  interrupting  your 
game.  Let  me  beg  you  to  continue.  With  your  per- 
mission, Duchess,  I  will  remain  a  spectator.  There 
are  many  things  which  my  wife  and  I  have  to  say  to 
one  another." 

The  Prince  of  Saxe  Leinitzer  laid  his  cards  softly 
upon  the  table.  He  smiled  upon  Mr.  Sabin — a  slow, 
unpleasant  smile. 

"I  think,"  he  said  slowly,  "that  our  game  must  be 
postponed.  It  is  a  pity,  but  I  think  it  had  better 
be  so." 

"It  must  be  entirely  as  you  wish,"  Mr.  Sabin  an- 
swered. "I  am  at  your  service  now  or  later." 

The  Prince  rose  to  his  feet. 

"Monsieur  le  Due  de  Souspennier,"  he  said,  "what 
are  we  to  conclude  from  your  presence  here  this  even- 
ing?" 

"It  is  obvious,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered.  "I  claim  my 
place  amongst  you." 

"You  claim  to  be  one  of  us  ?" 

"I  do!" 

"Ten  years  ago,"  the  Prince  continued,  "you  were 
granted  immunity  from  all  the  penalties  and  obliga- 
tions which  a  co-membership  with  us  might  involve. 


This  privilege  was  extended  to  you  on  account  of  cer- 
tain great  operations  in  which  you  were  then  engaged, 
and  the  object  of  which  was  not  foreign  to  our  own 
aims.  You  are  aware  that  the  period  of  that  im- 
munity is  long  since  past." 

Mr.  Sabin  leaned  with  both  hands  upon  his  stick, 
and  his  face  was  like  the  face  of  a  sphinx.  Only 
Lucille,  who  knew  him  best  of  all  those  there,  saw 
him  wince  for  a  moment  before  this  reminder  of  his 
great  failure. 

"I  am  not  accustomed,"  Mr.  Sabin  said  quietly, 
"to  shirk  my  share  of  the  work  in  any  undertaking 
with  which  I  am  connected.  Only  in  this  case  I  claim 
to  take  the  place  of  the  Countess  Lucille,  my  wife.  I 
request  that  the  task,  whatever  it  may  be  which  you 
have  imposed  upon  her,  may  be  transferred  to  me." 

The  Prince's  smile  was  sweet,  but  those  who  knew 
him  best  wondered  what  evil  it  might  betoken  for  his 
ancient  enemy. 

"You  offer  yourself,  then,  as  a  full  member?" 

"Assuredly !" 

"Subject,"  he  drawled,  "to  all  the  usual  pains  and 
privileges  ?" 

"Certainly!" 

The  Prince  played  with  the  cards  upon  the  table. 
His  smooth,  fair  face  was  unruffled,  almost  undis- 
turbed. Yet  underneath  he  was  wondering  fiercely, 
eagerly,  how  this  might  serve  his  ends. 

"The  circumstances,"  he  said  at  last,  "are  peculiar. 
I  think  that  we  should  do  well  to  consult  together — 
you  and  I,  Felix,  and  Raoul  here." 


The  two  men  named  rose  up  silently.  The  Pfince 
pointed  to  a  small  round  table  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  apartment,  half  screened  off  by  a  curtained  re- 
cess. 

"Am  I  also,"  Mr.  Sabin  asked,  "of  your  com- 
pany ?" 

The  Prince  shook  his  head. 

"I  think  not,"  he  said.  "In  a  few  moments  we  will 
return." 

Mr.  Sabin  moved  away  with  a  slight  enigmatic 
gesture.  Lucille  gathered  up  her  skirts,  making  room 
for  him  by  her  side  on  a  small  sofa. 

"It  is  delightful  to  see  you,  Victor,"  she  murmured. 
"It  is  delightful  to  know  that  you  trusted  me." 

Mr.  Sabin  looked  at  her,  and  the  smile  which  no 
other  woman  had  ever  seen  softened  for  a  moment  his 
face. 

"Dear  Lucille,"  he  murmured,  "how  could  you  ever 
doubt  it?  There  was  a  day,  I  admit,  when  the  sun 
stood  still,  when,  if  I  had  felt  inclined  to  turn  to  light 
literature,  I  should  have  read  aloud  the  Book  of  Job. 
But  afterwards — well,  you  see  that  I  am  here." 

She  laughed. 

"I  knew  that  you  would  come,"  she  said,  "and  yet 
I  knew  that  it  would  be  a  struggle  between  you  and 
them.  For — the  Prince — "  she  murmured,  low- 
ering her  voice,  "had  pledged  his  word  to  keep  us 
apart." 

Mr.  Sabin  raised  his  head,  and  his  eyes  travelled 
towards  the  figure  of  the  man  who  sat  with  his  back 
to  them  in  the  far  distant  corner  of  the  room. 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      135 

"The  Prince,"  he  said  softly,  "is  faithful  to  his 
ancient  enmities." 

Lucille's  face  was  troubled.  She  turned  to  her  com- 
panion with  a  little  grimace. 

"He  would  have  me  believe,"  she  murmured,  "that 
he  is  faithful  to  other  things  besides  his  enmities." 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled. 

"I  am  not  jealous,"  he  said  softly,  "of  the  Prince 
of  Saxe  Leinitzer!" 

As  though  attracted  by  the  mention  of  his  name, 
which  must,  however,  have  been  unheard  by  him,  the 
Prince  at  that  moment  turned  round  and  looked  for 
a  moment  towards  them.  He  shot  a  quick  glance  at 
Lady  Carey.  Almost  at  once  she  rose  from  her  chair 
and  came  across  to  them. 

"The  Prince's  watch-dog,"  Lucille  murmured. 
"Hateful  woman !  She  is  bound  hand  and  foot  to  him, 
and  yet " 

Her  eyes  met  his,  and  he  laughed. 

"Really,"  he  said,  "you  and  I  in  our  old  age  might 
be  hero  and  heroine  of  a  little  romance — the  undesir- 
ing  objects  of  a  hopeless  affection !" 

Lady  Carey  sank  into  a  low  chair  by  their  side. 

"You  two,"  she  said,  with  a  slow,  malicious  smile, 
"are  a  pattern  to  this  wicked  world.  Don't  you  know 
that  such  fidelity  is  positively  sinful,  and  after  three 
years  in  such  a  country  too  ?" 

"It  is  the  approach  of  senility,"  Mr.  Sabin  an- 
swered her.  "I  am  an  old  man,  Lady  Muriel !" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"You  are  like  Ulysses,"  she  said.     "The  gods,  or 


136      THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

rather  the  goddesses,  have  helped  you  towards  im- 
mortality." 

"It  is,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered,  "the  most  delicious 
piece  of  flattery  I  have  ever  heard." 

"Calypso,"  she  murmured,  nodding  towards  Lu- 
cille, "is  by  your  side." 

"Really,"  Mr.  Sabin  interrupted,  "I  must  protest. 
Lucille  and  I  were  married  by  a  most  respectable 
Episcopalian  clergyman.  We  have  documentary  evi- 
dence. Besides,  if  Lucille  is  Calypso,  what  about  Pen- 
elope?" 

Lady  Carey  smiled  thoughtfully. 

"I  have  always  thought,"  she  said,  "that  Pen- 
elope was  a  myth.  In  your  case  I  should  say  that 
Penelope  represents  a  return  to  sanity — to  the  ordi- 
nary ways  of  life." 

Mr.  Sabin  and  Lucille  exchanged  swift  glances. 
He  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"Our  little  idyll,"  he  said,  "seems  to  be  the  sport 
and  buffet  of  every  one.  You  forget  that  I  am  of  the 
old  world.  I  do  not  understand  modernity." 

"Ulysses,"  she  answered,  "was  of  the  old  world, 
yet  he  was  a  wanderer  in  more  senses  of  the  word 
than  one.  And  there  have  been  times " 

Her  eyes  sought  his.  He  ignored  absolutely  the 
subtlety  of  meaning  which  lurked  beneath  the  heavy 
drooping  eyelids. 

"One  travels  through  life,"  he  answered,  "by 
devious  paths,  and  a  little  wandering  in  the  flower- 
gardens  by  the  way  is  the  lot  of  every  one.  But 
when  the  journey  is  over,  one's  taste  for  wandering 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      137 

has  gone — well,  Ulysses  finished  his  days  at  the  hearth 
of  Penelope." 

She  rose  and  walked  away.  Mr.  Sabin  sat  still  and 
watched  her  as  though  listening  to  the  soft  sweep  of 
her  gown  upon  the  carpet. 

"Hateful  woman !"  Lucille  exclaimed  lightly.  "To 
make  love,  and  such  love,  to  one's  lawful  husband  be- 
fore one's  face  is  a  little  crude,  don't  you  think  ?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Too  obvious,"  he  answered.  "She  is  playing  the 
Prince's  game.  Dear  me,  how  interesting  this  will  be 
soon." 

She  nodded.  A  faint  smile  of  bitterness  had  stolen 
into  her  tone. 

"Already,"  she  said,  "you  are  beginning  to  scent 
the  delight  of  the  atmosphere.  You  are  stiffening 
for  the  fight.  Soon " 

"Ah,  no!  Don't  say  it,"  he  whispered,  taking  her 
hand.  "I  shall  never  forget.  If  the  fight  seems  good 
to  me  it  is  because  you  are  the  prize,  and  after  all, 
you  know,  to  fight  for  one's  womenkind  is  amongst 
the  primeval  instincts." 

Lady  Carey,  who  had  been  pacing  the  room  rest- 
lessly, touching  an  ornament  here,  looking  at  a  pic- 
ture there,  came  back  to  them  and  stood  before  Mr. 
Sabin.  She  had  caught  his  last  words. 

"Primeval  instincts !"  she  exclaimed  mockingly. 
"What  do  you  know  about  them,  you  of  all  men,  a 
bundle  of  nerves  and  brains,  with  a  motor  for  a  heart, 
and  an  automatic  brake  upon  your  passions?  Upon 
my  word,  I  believe  that  I  have  solved  the  mystery  of 


138      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

your  perennial  youth.  You  have  found  a  way  of 
substituting  machinery  for  the  human  organ,  and 
you  are  wound  up  to  go  for  ever," 

"You  have  found  me  out,"  he  admitted.  "Pro- 
fessor Penningram  of  Chicago  will  supply  you  too 
with  an  outfit.  Mention  my  name  if  you  like.  It  is 
a  wonderful  country,  America." 

The  Prince  came  over  to  them,  fair  and  bland,  with 
no  trace  upon  his  smooth  features  or  in  his  half-jest- 
ing tone  of  any  evil  things. 

"Souspennier,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand,  "wel- 
come back  once  more  to  your  old  place.  I  am  happy 
to  say  that  there  appears  to  be  no  reason  why  your 
claim  should  not  be  fully  admitted." 

Mr.  Sabin  rose  to  his  feet. 

"I  presume,"  he  said,  "that  no  very  active  demands 
are  likely  to  be  made  upon  my  services.  In  this  coun- 
try more  than  any  other  I  fear  that  the  possibilities  of 
my  aid  are  scanty." 

The  Prince  smiled. 

"It  is  a  fact,"  he  said,  "which  we  all  appreciate. 
Upon  you  at  present  we  make  no  claim." 

There  was  a  moment's  intense  silence.  A  steely 
light  glittered  in  Mr.  Sabin's  eyes.  He  and  the  Prince 
alone  remained  standing.  The  Duchess  of  Dorset 
watched  them  through  her  lorgnettes;  Lady  Carey 
watched  too  with  an  intense  eagerness,  her  eyes  alight 
with  mingled  cruelty  and  excitement.  Lucille's  eyes 
were  so  bright  that  one  might  readily  believe  the  tears 
to  be  glistening  beneath. 


I 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

6  T  WILL  not  pretend,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "to 
misunderstand  you.  My  help  is  not  re- 
quired by  you  in  this  enterprise,  what- 
ever it  may  be,  in  which  you  are  engaged. 
On  the  contrary,  you  have  tried  by  many  and  various 
ways  to  keep  me  at  a  distance.  But  I  am  here,  Prince 
— here  to  be  dealt  with  and  treated  according  to  my 
rights." 

The  Prince  stroked  his  fair  moustache. 

"I  am  a  little  puzzled,"  he  admitted,  "as  to  this — 
shall  I  not  call  it  self-assertiveness  ? — on  the  part  of 
my  good  friend  Souspennier." 

"I  will  make  it  quite  clear  then,"  Mr.  Sabin  an- 
swered. "Lucille,  will  you  favour  me  by  ringing  for 
your  maid.  The  carriage  is  at  the  door." 

The  Prince  held  out  his  hand. 

"My  dear  Souspennier,"  he  said,  "you  must  not 
think  of  taking  Lucille  away  from  us." 

"Indeed,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered  coolly.    "Why  not?" 

"It  must  be  obvious  to  you,"  the  Prince  answered, 
"that  we  did  not  send  to  America  for  Lucille  without 
an  object.  She  is  now  engaged  in  an  important  work 
upon  our  behalf.  It  is  necessary  that  she  should  re- 
main under  this  roof." 

"I  demand,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "that  the  nature  of 
that  necessity  should  be  made  clear  to  me." 


140       THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

The  Prince  smiled  with  the  air  of  one  disposed  to 
humour  a  wilful  child. 

"Come!"  he  said.  "You  must  know  very  well  that 
I  cannot  stand  here  and  tell  you  the  bare  outline,  much 
less  the  details  of  an  important  movement.  To-mor- 
row, at  any  hour  you  choose,  one  from  amongst  us 
shall  explain  the  whole  matter — and  the  part  to  be 
borne  in  it  by  the  Countess !" 

"And  to-night?"  Mr.  Sabin  asked. 

The  Prince  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  glanced  at 
the  clock. 

"To-night,  my  dear  friend,"  he  said,  "all  of  us, 
I  believe,  go  on  to  a  ball  at  Carmarthen  House.  It 
would  grieve  me  also,  I  am  sure,  Duke,  to  seem  in- 
hospitable, but  I  am  compelled  to  mention  the  fact 
that  the  hour  for  which  the  carriages  have  been  or- 
dered is  already  at  hand." 

Mr.  Sabin  reflected  for  a  few  moments. 

"Did  I  understand  you  to  say,"  he  asked,  "that 
the  help  to  be  given  to  you  by  my  wife,  Lucille,  Duch- 
ess of  Souspennier,  entailed  her  remaining  under  this 
roof?" 

The  Prince  smiled  seraphically. 

"It  is  unfortunate,"  he  murmured,  "since  you  have 
been  so  gallant  as  to  follow  her,  but  it  is  true!  You 
will  understand  this  perfectly — to-morrow." 

"And  why  should  I  wait  until  to-morrow?"  Mr. 
Sabin  asked  coolly. 

"I  fear,"  the  Prince  said,  "that  it  is  a  matter  of 
necessity." 

Mr.  Sabin  glanced  for  a  moment  in  turn  at  the 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      141 

faces  of  all  the  little  company  as  though  seeking  to 
discover  how  far  the  attitude  of  his  opponent  met  with 
their  approval.  Lady  Carey's  thin  lips  were  curved 
in  a  smile,  and  her  eyes  met  his  mockingly.  The 
others  remained  imperturbable.  Last  of  all  he  looked 
at  Lucille. 

"It  seems,"  he  said,  smiling  towards  her,  "that 
I  am  called  upon  to  jxty  a  heavy  entrance  fee  on  my 
return  amongst  your  friends.  But  the  Prince  of  Saxe 
Leinitzer  forgets  that  he  has  shown  me  no  authority, 
or  given  me  no  valid  reason  why  I  should  tolerate 
such  flagrant  interference  with  my  personal  affairs." 

"To-morrow — to-morrow,  my  good  sir !"  the  Prince 
interrupted. 

"No!  To-night!"  Mr.  Sabin  answered  sharply. 
"Lucille,  in  the  absence  of  any  reasonable  explana- 
tion, I  challenge  the  right  of  the  Prince  of  Saxe  Lei- 
nitzer  to  rob  me  even  for  an  hour  of  my  dearest  pos- 
session. I  appeal  to  you.  Come  with  me  and  remain 
with  me  until  it  has  been  proved,  if  ever  it  can  be 
proved,  that  greater  interests  require  our  separation. 
If  there  be  blame  I  will  take  it.  Will  you  trust  your- 
self to  me?" 

Lucille  half  rose,  but  Lady  Carey's  hand  was  heavy 
upon  her  shoulder.  As  though  by  a  careless  move- 
ment General  Dolinski  and  Raoul  de  Brouillac  altered 
their  positions  slightly  so  as  to  come  between  the 
two.  The  Duke  of  Dorset  had  left  the  room.  Then 
Mr.  Sabin  knew  that  they  were  all  against  him. 

"Lucille,"  he  said,  "have  courage!  I  wait  for 
you." 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

She  looked  towards  him,  and  her  face  puzzled  him. 
For  there  flashed  across  the  shoulders  of  these  people 
a  glance  which  was  wholly  out  of  harmony  with  his 
own  state  of  barely  subdued  passion — a  glance  half 
tender,  half  humorous,  full  of  subtle  promise.  Yet 
her  words  were  a  blow  to  him. 

"Victor,  how  is  it  possible?  Believe  me,  I  would 
come  if  I  could.  To-morrow — very  soon,  it  may  be 
possible.  But  now.  You  hear  what  the  Prince  says. 
I  fear  that  he  is  right !" 

To  Mr.  Sabin  the  shock  was  an  unexpected  one. 
He  had  never  doubted  but  that  she  at  least  was  on 
his  side.  Her  words  found  him  unprepared,  and  for 
a  moment  he  showed  his  discomfiture.  His  recovery, 
however,  was  swift  and  amazing.  He  bowed  to  Lu- 
cille, and  by  the  time  he  raised  his  head  even  the  re- 
proach had  gone  from  his  eyes. 

"Dear  lady,"  he  said,  "I  will  not  venture  to  dispute 
your  decision.  Prince,  will  you  appoint  a  time  to- 
morrow when  this  matter  shall  be  more  fully  explained 
to  me?" 

The  Prince's  smile  was  sweetness  itself,  and  his  tone 
very  gentle.  But  Mr.  Sabin,  who  seldom  yielded  to 
any  passionate  impulse,  kept  his  teeth  set  and  his 
hand  clenched,  lest  the  blow  he  longed  to  deal  should 
escape  him. 

"At  midday  to-morrow  I  shall  be  pleased  to  re- 
ceive you,"  he  said.  "The  Countess,  with  her  usual 
devotion  and  good  sense,  has,  I  trust,  convinced  you 
that  our  action  is  necessary !" 

"To-morrow  at  midday,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "I  will 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON      143 

be  here.  I  have  the  honour  to  wish  you  all  good- 
night." 

His  farewell  was  comprehensive.  He  did  not  even 
single  out  Lucille  for  a  parting  glance.  But  down 
the  broad  stairs  and  across  the  hall  of  Dorset  House 
he  passed  with  weary  steps,  leaning  heavily  upon  his 
stick.  It  was  a  heavy  blow  which  had  fallen  upon 
him.  As  yet  he  scarcely  realised  it. 

His  carriage  was  delayed  for  a  few  moments,  and 
just  as  he  was  entering  it  a  young  woman,  plainly 
dressed  in  black,  came  hurrying  out  and  slipped  a 
note  into  his  hand. 

"Pardon,  monsieur,"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  smile. 
"I  feared  that  I  was  too  late." 

Mr.  Sabin's  fingers  closed  over  the  note,  and  he 
stepped  blithely  into  the  carriage.  But  when  he  tore 
it  open  and  saw  the  handwriting  he  permitted  himself 
a  little  groan  of  disappointment.  It  was  not  from 
her.  He  read  the  few  lines  and  crushed  the  sheet  of 
paper  in  his  hand. 

"I  am  having  supper  at  the  Carlton  with  some 
friends  on  our  way  to  C.  H.  I  want  to  speak  to  you 
for  a  moment.  Be  in  the  Palm  Court  at  12.15,  but 
do  not  recognise  me  until  I  come  to  you.  If  possible 
keep  out  of  sight.  If  you  should  have  left  my  maid 
will  bring  this  on  to  your  hotel. 

"M.  C." 

Mr.  Sabin  leaned  back  in  his  carriage,  and  a  frown 
of  faint  perplexity  contracted  his  forehead. 

"If  I  were  a  younger  man,"  he  murmured  to  him- 


144      THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

self,  "I  might  believe  that  this  woman  was  really  in 
earnest,  as  well  as  being  Saxe  Leinitzer's  jackal.  We 
were  friendly  enough  in  Paris  that  year.  She  is  un- 
scrupulous enough,  of  course.  Always  with  some  odd 
fancy  for  the  grotesque  or  unlikely.  I  wonder ' 

He  pulled  the  check-string,  and  was  driven  to 
Camperdown  House.  A  great  many  people  were 
coming  and  going.  Mr.  Sabin  found  Helene's  maid, 
and  learnt  that  her  mistress  was  just  going  to  her 
room,  and  would  be  alone  for  a  few  minutes.  He 
scribbled  a  few  words  on  the  back  of  a  card,  and  was 
at  once  taken  up  to  her  boudoir. 

"My  dear  uncle,"  Helene  exclaimed,  "you  have  ar- 
rived most  opportunely.  We  have  just  got  rid  of  a 
few  dinner  people,  and  we  are  going  on  to  Carmarthen 
House  presently.  Take  that  easy-chair,  please,  and 
light  a  cigarette.  Will  you  have  a  liqueur?  Wolf  en- 
don  has  some  old  brandy  which  every  one  seems  to 
think  wonderful." 

"You  are  very  kind,  Helene,"  Mr.  Sabin  said.  "I 
cannot  refuse  anything  which  you  offer  in  so  charm- 
ing a  manner.  But  I  shall  not  keep  you  more  than  a 
few  minutes." 

"We  need  not  leave  for  an  hour,"  Helene  said, 
"and  I  am  dressed  except  for  my  jewels.  Tell  me, 
have  you  seen  Lucille?  I  am  so  anxious  to  know." 

"I  have  seen  Lucille  this  evening,"  Mr.  Sabin  an- 
swered. 

"At  Dorset  House?" 

"Yes." 

Helene  sat  down,  smiling. 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON      145 

"Do  tell  me  all  about  it." 

"There  is  very  little  to  tell,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered. 

"She  is  with  you — she  returns  at  least !" 

Mr.  Sabin  shook  his  head. 

"No,"  he  answered.  "She  remains  at  Dorset 
House." 

Helene  was  silent.  Mr.  Sabin  smoked  pensively 
for  a  moment  or  two,  and  sipped  the  liqueur  which 
Lord  Camperdown's  own  servant  had  just  brought 
him. 

"It  is  very  hard,  Helene,"  he  said,  "to  make  you 
altogether  understand  the  situation,  for  there  are  cer- 
tain phases  of  it  which  I  cannot  discuss  with  you  at 
all.  I  have  made  my  first  effort  to  regain  Lucille,  and 
it  has  failed.  It  is  not  her  fault.  I  need  not  say  that 
it  is  not  mine.  But  the  struggle  has  commenced,  and 
in  the  end  I  shall  win." 

"Lucille  herself "  Helene  began  hesitatingly. 

"Lucille  is,  I  firmly  believe,  as  anxious  to  return 
to  me  as  I  am  anxious  to  have  her,"  Mr.  Sabin 
said. 

Helene  threw  up  her  hands. 

"It  is  bewildering,"  she  exclaimed. 

"It  must  seem  so  to  you,"  Mr.  Sabin  admitted. 

"I  wish  that  Lucille  were  anywhere  else,"  Helene 
said.  "The  Dorset  House  set,  you  know,  although 
they  are  very  smart  and  very  exclusive,  have  a  some- 
what peculiar  reputation.  Lady  Carey,  although  she 
is  such  a  brilliant  woman,  says  and  does  the  most  in- 
solent, the  most  amazing  things,  and  the  Prince  of 
Saxe  Leinitzer  goes  everywhere  in  Europe  by  the 


146      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

name  of  the  Royal  libertine.  They  are  powerful 
enough  almost  to  dominate  society,  and  we  poor 
people  who  abide  by  the  conventions  are  absolutely 
nowhere  beside  them.  They  think  that  we  are  bour- 
geois because  we  have  virtue,  and  prehistoric  because 
we  are  not  decadent." 

"The  Duke "  Mr.  Sabin  remarked. 

"Oh,  the  Duke  is  quite  different,  of  course,"  Helene 
admitted.  "He  is  a  fanatical  Tory,  very  stupid,  very 
blind  to  anything  except  his  beloved  Primrose  League. 
How  he  came  to  lend  himself  to  the  vagaries  of  such 
a  set  I  cannot  imagine." 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled. 

"C'est  la  femme  toujours!"  he  remarked.  "His 
Grace  is,  I  fear,  henpecked,  and  the  Duchess  herself 
is  the  sport  of  cleverer  people.  And  now,  my  dear 
niece,  I  see  that  the  time  is  going.  I  came  to  know 
if  you  could  get  me  a  card  for  the  ball  at  Carmarthen 
House  to-night." 

Helene  laughed  softly. 

"Very  easily,  my  dear  uncle.  Lady  Carmarthen 
is  Wolfendon's  cousin,  you  know,  and  a  very  good 
friend  of  mine.  I  have  half  a  dozen  blank  cards 
here.  Shall  I  really  see  you  there?" 

"I  believe  so,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered. 

"And  Lucille?" 

"It  is  possible." 

"There  is  nothing  I  suppose  which  I  can  do  in  the 
way  of  intervention,  or  anything  of  that  sort?" 

Mr.  Sabin  shook  his  head. 

"Lucille  and  I  are  the  best  of  friends,"  he  an- 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      147 

swered.  "Talk  to  her,  if  you  will.  By  the  bye,  is 
that  twelve  o'clock?  I  must  hurry.  Doubtless  we 
shall  meet  again  at  the  ball." 

But  Carmarthen  House  saw  nothing  of  Mr.  Sabin 
that  night. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

MR.  SABIN  from  his  seat  behind  a  gigantic 
palm  watched  her  egress  from  the  sup- 
per-room with  a  little  group  of  friends. 
They  came  to  a  halt  in  the  broad  car- 
peted way  only  a  few  feet  from  him.  Lady  Carey,  in 
a  wonderful  green  gown,  her  neck  and  bosom  ablaze 
with  jewels,  seemed  to  be  making  her  farewells. 

"I  must  go  in  and  see  the  De  Lausanacs,"  she  ex- 
claimed. "They  are  in  the  blue  room  supping  with 
the  Portuguese  Ambassador.  I  shall  be  at  Carmar- 
then House  within  half  an  hour — unless  my  headache 
becomes  unbearable.  Au  revoir,  all  of  you.  Good- 
bye, Laura !" 

Her  friends  passed  on  towards  the  great  swing 
doors.  Lady  Carey  retraced  her  steps  slowly  towards 
the  supper-room,  and  made  some  languid  inquiries 
of  the  head  waiter  as  to  a  missing  handkerchief. 
Then  she  came  again  slowly  down  the  broad  way  and 
reached  Mr.  Sabin.  He  rose  to  his  feet. 

"I  thank  you  very  much  for  your  note,"  he  said. 
"You  have  something,  I  believe,  to  say  to  me." 

She  stood  before  him  for  a  moment  in  silence,  as 
though  not  unwilling  that  he  should  appreciate  the 
soft  splendour  of  her  toilette.  The  jewels  which  en- 
circled her  neck  were  priceless  and  dazzling;  the  soft 
material  of  her  gown,  the  most  delicate  shade  of  sea 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON      149 

green,  seemed  to  foam  about  her  feet,  a  wonderful 
triumph  of  allegoric  dressmaking.  She  saw  that  he 
was  studying  her,  and  she  laughed  a  little  uneasily, 
looking  all  the  time  into  his  eyes. 

"Shockingly  overdressed,  ain't  I?"  she  said. 
"We  were  going  straight  to  Carmarthen  House,  you 
know.  Come  and  sit  in  this  corner  for  a  moment,  and 
order  me  some  coffee.  I  suppose  there  isn't  any  less 
public  place!" 

"I  fear  not."  he  answered.  "You  will  perhaps  be 
unobserved  behind  this  palm." 

She  sank  into  a  low  chair,  and  he  seated  himself 
beside  her.  She  sighed  contentedly. 

"Dear  me !"  she  said.  "Do  men  like  being  run  after 
like  this?" 

Mr.  Sabin  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"I  understood,"  he  said,  "that  you  had  something 
to  say  to  me  of  importance." 

She  shot  a  quick  look  up  at  him. 

"Don't  be  horrid,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone.  "Of 
course  I  wanted  to  see  you.  I  wanted  to  explain. 
Give  me  one  of  your  cigarettes." 

He  laid  his  case  silently  before  her.  She  took  one 
and  lit  it,  watching  him  furtively  all  the  time.  The 
man  brought  their  coffee.  The  place  was  almost 
empty  now,  and  some  of  the  lights  were  turned 
down. 

"It  is  very  kind  of  you,"  he  said  slowly,  "to  honour 
me  by  so  much  consideration,  but  if  you  have  much 
to  say  perhaps  it  would  be  better  if  you  permitted 
me  to  call  upon  you  to-morrow.  I  am  afraid  of  de- 


150       THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

priving  you  of  your  ball — and  your  friends  will  be 
getting  impatient." 

"Bother  the  ball — and  my  friends,"  she  exclaimed, 
a  certain  strained  note  in  her  tone  which  puzzled  him. 
"I'm  not  obliged  to  go  to  the  thing,  and  I  don't  want 
to.  I've  invented  a  headache,  and  they  won't  even 
expect  me.  They  know  my  headaches." 

"In  that  case,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "I  am  entirely  at 
your  service." 

She  sighed,  and  looked  up  at  him  through  a  little 
cloud  of  tobacco  smoke. 

"What  a  wonderful  man  you  are,"  she  said  softly. 
"You  accept  defeat  with  the  grace  of  a  victor.  I  be- 
lieve that  you  would  triumph  as  easily  with  a  shrug 
of  the  shoulders.  Haven't  you  any  feeling  at  all? 
Don't  you  know  what  it  is  like  to  feel  ?" 

He  smiled. 

"We  both  come,"  he  said,  "of  a  historic  race.  If 
ancestry  is  worth  anything  it  should  at  least  teach 
us  to  go  about  without  pinning  our  hearts  upon  our 
sleeves." 

"But  you,"  she  murmured,  "you  have  no  heart." 

He  looked  down  upon  her  then  with  still  cold  face 
and  steady  eyes. 

"Indeed,"  he  said,  "you  are  mistaken." 

She  moved  uneasily  in  her  chair.  She  was  very 
pale,  except  for  a  faint  spot  of  pink  colour  in  her 
cheeks. 

"It  is  very  hard  to  find,  then,"  she  said,  speaking 
quickly,  her  bosom  rising  and  falling,  her  eves  al- 
ways seeking  to  hold  his.  "To-night  you  see  what 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      151 

I  have  done — I  have  sent  away  my  friends — and  my 
carriage.  They  may  know  me  here — you  see  what 
I  have  risked.  And  I  don't  care.  You  thought  to- 
night that  I  was  your  enemy — and  I  am  not.  I  am 
not  your  enemy  at  all." 

Her  hand  fell  as  though  by  accident  upon  his,  and 
remained  there.  Mr.  Sabin  was  very  nearly  em- 
barrassed. He  knew  quite  well  that  if  she  were  not  his 
enemy  at  that  moment  she  would  be  very  shortly. 

"Lucille,"  she  continued,  "will  blame  me  too.  I 
cannot  help  it.  I  want  to  tell  you  that  for  the  present 
your  separation  from  her  is  a  certain  thing.  She 
acquiesces.  You  heard  her.  She  is  quite  happy.  She 
is  at  the  ball  to-night,  and  she  has  friends  there  who 
will  make  it  pleasant  for  her.  Won't  you  under- 
stand?" 

"No,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered. 

She  beat  the  ground  with  her  foot. 

"You  must  understand,"  she  murmured.  "You 
are  not  like  these  fools  of  Englishmen  who  go  to  sleep 
when  they  are  married,  and  wake  in  the  divorce  court. 
For  the  present  at  least  you  have  lost  Lucille.  You 
heard  her  choose.  She's  at  the  ball  to-night — and  I 
have  come  here  to  be  with  you.  Won't  you,  please," 
she  added,  with  a  little  nervous  laugh,  "show  some 
gratitude  ?" 

The  interruption  which  Mr.  Sabin  had  prayed  for 
came  at  last.  The  musicians  had  left,  and  many  of 
the  lights  had  been  turned  down.  An  official  came 
across  to  them. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  he  said,  addressing  Mr. 


152      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

Sabin,  "but  we  are  closing  now,  unless  you  are  a  guest 
in  the  hotel." 

"I  am  staying  here,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered,  rising, 
"but  the  lady " 

Lady  Carey  interrupted  him. 

"I  am  staying  here  also,"  she  said  to  the  man. 

He  bowed  at  once  and  withdrew.  She  rose  slowly 
to  her  feet  and  laid  her  fingers  upon  his  arm.  He 
looked  steadily  away  from  her. 

"Fortunately,"  he  said,  "I  have  not  yet  dismissed 
my  own  carriage.  Permit  me." 

*  *  #  #  * 

Mr.  Sabin  leaned  heavily  upon  his  stick  as  he 
slowly  made  his  way  along  the  corridor  to  his  rooms. 
Things  were  going  ill  with  him  indeed.  He  was  not 
used  to  the  fear  of  an  enemy,  but  the  memory  of  Lady 
Carey's  white  cheeks  and  indrawn  lips  as  she  had  en- 
tered his  carriage  chilled  him.  Her  one  look,  too,  was 
a  threat  worse  than  any  which  her  lips  could  have 
uttered.  He  was  getting  old  indeed,  he  thought, 
wearily,  when  disappointment  weighed  so  heavily 
upon  him.  And  Lucille?  Had  he  any  real  fears  of 
her?  He  felt  a  little  catch  in  his  throat  at  the  bare 
thought — in  a  moment's  singular  clearness  of  per- 
ception he  realised  that  if  Lucille  were  indeed  lost 
the  world  was  no  longer  a  place  for  him.  So  his  feet 
fell  wearily  upon  the  thickly  carpeted  floor  of  the  cor- 
ridor, and  his  face  was  unusually  drawn  and  haggard 
as  he  opened  the  door  of  his  sitting-room. 

And  then — a  transformation,  amazing,  stupefying. 
It  was  Lucille  who  was  smiling  a  welcome  upon  him 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON      153 

from  the  depths  of  his  favourite  easy-chair — Lucille 
sitting  over  his  fire,  a  novel  in  her  hand,  and  wearing 
a  delightful  rose-pink  dressing-gown.  Some  of  her 
belongings  were  scattered  about  his  room,  giving  it 
a  delicate  air  of  femininity.  The  faint  odour  of  her 
favourite  and  only  perfume  gave  to  her  undoubted 
presence  a  wonderful  sense  of  reality. 

She  held  out  her  hands  to  him,  and  the  broad 
sleeves  of  her  dressing-gown  fell  away  from  her  white 
rounded  arms.  Her  eyes  were  wonderfully  soft,  the 
pink  upon  her  cheeks  was  the  blush  of  a  girl. 

"Victor,"  she  murmured,  "do  not  look  so  stupefied. 
Did  you  not  believe  that  I  would  risk  at  least  a  little 
for  you,  who  have  risked  so  much  for  me?  Only  come 
to  me !  Make  the  most  of  me.  All  sorts  of  things  are 
sure  to  happen  directly  I  am  found  out." 

He  took  her  into  his  arms.  It  was  one  of  the  mo- 
ments of  his  lifetime. 

"Tell  me,"  he  murmured,  "how  have  you  dared 
to  do  this?" 

She  laughed. 

"You  know  the  Prince  and  his  set.  You  know 
the  way  they  bribe.  Intrigues  everywhere,  new  and 
old  overlapping.  They  have  really  some  reason  for 
keeping  you  and  me  apart,  but  as  regards  my  other 
movements,  I  am  free  enough.  And  they  thought, 
Victor — don't  be  angry — but  I  let  them  think  it  was 
some  one  else.  And  I  stole  away  from  the  ball,  and 
they  think — never  mind  what  they  think.  But  you, 
Victor,  are  my  intrigue,  you,  my  love,  my  hus- 
band!" 


154      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

Then  all  the  fatigue  and  all  the  weariness  died 
away  from  Mr.  Sabin's  face.  Once  more  the  fire  of 
youth  burned  in  his  heart.  And  Lucille  laughed  softly 
as  her  lips  met  his,  and  her  head  sank  upon  his 
shoulder. 


T 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

ADY  CAREY  suddenly  dropped  her  part- 
ner's arm.  She  had  seen  a  man  standing 
by  himself  with  folded  arms  and  moody 
face  at  the  entrance  to  the  ball-room. 
She  raised  her  lorgnettes.  His  identity  was  unques- 
tionable. 

"Will  you  excuse  me  for  a  moment,  Captain  Hor- 
ton,"  she  said  to  her  escort.  "I  want  particularly  to 
speak  to  Mr.  Brott." 

Captain  Horton  bowed  with  the  slight  disappoint- 
ment of  a  hungry  man  on  his  way  to  the  supper- 
room. 

"Don't  be  long,"  he  begged.  "The  places  are  fill- 
ing up." 

Lady  Carey  nodded  and  walked  swiftly  across  to 
where  Brott  was  standing.  He  moved  eagerly  for- 
ward to  meet  her. 

"Not  dancing,  Mr.  Brott?" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"This  sort  of  thing  isn't  much  in  my  way,"  he  an- 
swered. "I  was  rather  hoping  to  see  the  Countess 
here.  I  trust  that  she  is  not  indisposed." 

She  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"Do  you  mean,"  she  said,  "that  you  do  not  know 
where  she  is?" 

"I?"  he  answered  in  amazement.     "How  should  I? 


156      THE    YELLOW  .  CRAYON 

I  have  not  seen  her  at  all  this  evening.  I  under- 
stood that  she  was  to  be  here." 

Lady  Carey  hesitated.  The  man  was  too  honest 
to  be  able  to  lie  like  this,  even  in  a  good  cause.  She 
stood  quite  still  for  a  moment  thinking.  Several  of 
her  dearest  friends  had  already  told  her  that  she  was 
looking  tired  and  ill  this  evening.  At  that  moment 
she  was  positively  haggard. 

"I  have  been  down  at  Ranelagh  this  afternoon," 
she  said  slowly,  "and  dining  out,  so  I  have  not  seen 
Lucille.  She  was  complaining  of  a  headache  yester- 
day, but  I  quite  thought  that  she  was  coming  here. 
Have  you  seen  the  Duchess?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"No.    There  is  such  a  crowd." 

Lady  Carey  glanced  towards  her  escort  and  turned 
away. 

"I  will  try  and  find  out  what  has  become  of  her," 
she  said.  "Don't  go  away  yet." 

She  rejoined  her  escort. 

"When  we  have  found  a  table,"  she  said,  "I  want 
you  to  keep  my  place  for  a  few  moments  while  I  try 
and  find  some  of  my  party." 

The}7  passed  into  the  supper-room,  and  appro- 
priated a  small  table.  Lady  Carey  left  her  partner, 
and  made  her  way  to  the  farther  end  of  the  apart- 
ment, where  the  Prince  of  Saxe  Leinitzer  was  supping 
with  half  a  dozen  men  and  women.  She  touched  him 
on  the  shoulder. 

"I  want  to  speak  to  you  for  a  moment,  Ferdinand," 
she  whispered. 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      157 

He  rose  at  once,  and  she  drew  him  a  little  apart. 

"Brott  is  here,"  she  said  slowly. 

"Brott  here!"  he  repeated.     "And  Lucille?" 

"He  is  asking  for  her — expected  to  find  her  here. 
He  is  downstairs  now,  looking  the  picture  of  misery." 

He  looked  at  her  inquiringly.  There  was  a  curious 
steely  light  in  her  eyes,  and  she  was  showing  her  front 
teeth,  which  were  a  little  prominent. 

"Do  you  think,"  he  asked,  "that  she  has  deceived 
us?" 

"What  else?    Where  are  the  Dorsets?" 

"The  Duchess  is  with  the  Earl  of  Condon,  and  some 
more  people  at  the  round  table  under  the  balcony." 

"Give  me  your  arm,"  she  whispered.  "We  must 
go  and  ask  her." 

They  crossed  the  room  together.  Lady  Carey  sank 
into  a  vacant  chair  by  the  side  of  the  Duchess  and 
talked  for  a  few  minutes  to  the  people  whom  she  knew. 
Then  she  turned  and  whispered  in  the  Duchess's  ear. 

"Where  is  Lucille?" 

The  Duchess  looked  at  her  with  a  meaning  smile. 

"How  should  I  know?    She  left  when  we  did." 

"Alone?" 

"Yes.    It  was  all  understood,  wasn't  it?" 

Lady  Carey  laughed  unpleasantly. 

"She  has  fooled  us,"  she  said.  "Brott  is  here  alone. 
Knows  nothing  of  her." 

The  Duchess  was  puzzled. 

"Well,  I  know  nothing  more  than  you  do,"  she 
answered.  "Are  you  sure  the  man  is  telling  the 
truth?" 


158       THE     YELLOW     CRAYON 

"Of  course.    He  is  the  image  of  despair." 

"I  am  sure  she  was  in  earnest,"  the  Duchess  said. 
"When  I  asked  her  whether  she  should  come  on  here 
she  laughed  a  little  nervously,  and  said  perhaps  or 
something  of  that  sort." 

"The  fool  may  have  bungled  it,"  Lady  Carey  said 
thoughtfully.  "I  will  go  back  to  him.  There's  that 
idiot  of  a  partner  of  mine.  I  must  go  and  pretend  to 
have  some  supper." 

Captain  Horton  found  his  vis-a-vis  a  somewhat 
unsatisfactory  companion.  She  drank  several  glasses 
of  champagne,  ate  scarcely  anything,  and  rushed  him 
away  before  he  had  taken  the  edge  off  his  appetite. 
He  brought  her  to  the  Duchess  and  went  back  in  a  huff 
to  finish  his  supper  alone.  Lady  Carey  went  down- 
stairs and  discovered  Mr.  Brott,  who  had  scarcely 
moved. 

"Have  you  seen  anything  of  her?"  she  asked. 

He  shook  his  head  gloomily. 

"No!  It  is  too  late  for  her  to  come  now,  isn't 
it?" 

"Take  me  somewhere  where  we  can  talk,"  she  said 
abruptly.  "One  of  those  seats  in  the  recess  will  do." 

He  obeyed  her,  and  they  found  a  retired  corner. 
Lady  Carey  wasted  no  time  in  fencing. 

"I  am  Lucille's  greatest  friend,  Mr.  Brott,  and  her 
confidante,"  she  said. 

He  nodded. 

"So  I  have  understood." 

"She  tells  me  everything." 

He  glanced  towards  her  a  little  uneasily. 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON       159 

"That  is  comprehensive !"  he  remarked. 

"It  is  true,"  she  answered.  "Lucille  has  told  me 
a  great  deal  about  your  friendship !  Come,  there  is 
no  use  in  our  mincing  words.  Lucille  has  been  badly 
treated  years  ago,  and  she  has  a  perfect  right  to  seek 
any  consolation  she  may  find.  The  old-fashioned 
ideas,  thank  goodness,  do  not  hold  any  longer 
amongst  us.  It  is  not  necessary  to  tie  yourself  for 
life  to  a  man  in  order  to  procure  a  little  diversion." 

"I  will  not  pretend  to  misunderstand  you,  Lady 
Carey,"  he  said  gravely,  "but  I  must  decline  to  discuss 
the  Countess  of  Radantz  in  connection  with  such  mat- 
ters." 

"Oh,  come !"  she  declared  impatiently ;  "remember 
that  I  am  her  friend.  Yours  is  quite  the  proper  at- 
titude, but  with  me  it  doesn't  matter.  Now  I  am 
going  to  ask  you  a  plain  question.  Had  you  any  en- 
gagement with  Lucille  to-night?" 

She  watched  him  mercilessly.  He  was  colouring 
like  a  boy.  Lady  Carey's  thin  lips  curled.  She  had 
no  sympathy  with  such  amateurish  love-making. 
Nevertheless,  his  embarrassment  was  a  great  relief  to 
her. 

"She  promised  to  be  here,"  he  answered  stiffly. 

"Everything  depends  upon  your  being  honest  with 
me,"  she  continued.  "You  will  see  from  my  question 
that  I  know.  Was  there  not  something  said  about 
supper  at  your  rooms  before  or  after  the  dance?" 

"I  cannot  discuss  this  matter  with  you  or  any  living 
person,"  he  answered.  "If  you  know  so  much  why 
ask  me?" 


160      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

Lady  Carey  could  have  shaken  the  man,  but  she 
restrained  herself. 

"It  is  sufficient!"  she  declared.  "What  I  cannot 
understand  is  why  you  are  here — when  Lucille  is  prob- 
ably awaiting  for  you  at  your  rooms  ?" 

He  started  from  his  chair  as  though  he  had  been  shot. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  exclaimed.     "She  was 

He  stopped  short.  Lady  Carey  shrugged  her 
shoulders. 

"Oh,  written  you  or  something,  I  suppose!"  she 
exclaimed.  "Trust  an  Englishman  for  bungling  a 
love  affair.  All  I  can  tell  you  is  that  she  left  Dorset 
House  in  a  hansom  without  the  others,  and  said  some- 
thing about  having  supper  with  some  friends." 

Brott  sprang  to  his  feet  and  took  a  quick  step 
towards  the  exit. 

"It  is  not  possible !"  he  exclaimed. 

She  took  his  arm.     He  almost  dragged  her  along. 

"Well,  we  are  going  to  see,"  she  said  coolly.  "Tell 
the  man  to  call  a  hansom." 

They  drove  almost  in  silence  through  the  Square 
to  Pall  Mall.  Brott  leaped  out  onto  the  pavement  di- 
rectly the  cab  pulled  up. 

"I  will  wait  here,"  Lady  Carey  said.  "I  only  want 
to  know  that  Lucille  is  safe." 

He  disappeared,  and  she  sat  forward  in  the  cab 
drumming  idly  with  her  forefingers  upon  the  apron. 
In  a  few  minutes  he  came  back.  His  appearance 
was  quite  sufficient.  He  was  very  pale.  The  change 
in  him  was  so  ludicrous  that  she  laughed. 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      161 

"Get  in,"  she  said.  "I  am  going  round  to  Dorset 
House.  We  must  find  out  if  we  can  what  has  become 
of  her." 

He  obeyed  without  comment.  At  Dorset  House 
Lady  Carey  summoned  the  Duchess's  own  maid. 

"Marie,"  she  said,  "you  were  attending  upon  the 
Countess  Radantz  to-night?" 

"Yes,  my  lady." 

"At  what  time  did  she  leave?" 

"At  about  eleven,  my  lady." 

"Alone?" 

"Yes,  my  lady." 

Lady  Carey  looked  steadily  at  the  girl. 

"Did  she  take  anything  with  her?" 

The  girl  hesitated.     Lady  Carey  frowned. 

"It  must  be  the  truth,  remember,  Marie." 

"Certainly,  my  lady !  She  took  her  small  dressing- 
case." 

Lady  Carey  set  her  teeth  hard.  Then  with  a  move- 
ment of  her  head  she  dismissed  the  maid.  She  walked 
restlessly  up  and  down  the  room.  Then  she  stopped 
short  with  a  hard  little  laugh. 

"If  I  give  way  like  this,"  she  murmured,  "I  shall 
be  positively  hideous,  and  after  all,  if  she  was  there 
it  was  not  possible  for  him " 

She  stopped  short,  and  suddenly  tearing  the  hand- 
kerchief which  she  had  been  carrying  into  shreds 
threw  the  pieces  upon  the  floor,  and  stamped  upon 
them.  Then  she  laughed  shortly,  and  turned  towards 
the  door. 


162      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"Now  I  must  go  and  get  rid  of  that  poor  fool  out- 
side," she  said.  "What  a  bungler !" 

Brott  was  beside  himself  with  impatience. 

"Lucille  is  here,"  she  announced,  stepping  in  be- 
side him.  "She  has  a  shocking  headache  and  has  gone 
to  bed.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  believe  that  she  was 
expecting  to  hear  from  you." 

"Impossible!"  he  answered  shortly.  He  was  begin- 
ning to  distrust  this  woman. 

"Never  mind.  You  can  make  it  up  with  her  to- 
morrow. I  was  foolish  to  be  anxious  about  her  at  all. 
Are  you  coming  in  again?" 

They  were  at  Carmarthen  House.  He  handed  her 
out. 

"No,  thanks !  If  you  will  allow  me  I  will  wish  you 
good-night." 

She  made  her  way  into  the  ball-room,  and  found  the 
Prince  of  Saxe  Leinitzer,  who  was  just  leaving. 

"Do  you  know  where  Lucille  is?"  she  asked. 

He  looked  up  at  her  sharply. 

"Where?" 

"At  the  Carlton  Hotel— with  him." 

He  rose  to  his  feet  with  slow  but  evil  promptitude. 
His  face  just  then  was  very  unlike  the  face  of  an 
angel.  Lady  Carey  laughed  aloud. 

"Poor  man,"  she  said  mockingly.  "It  is  always 
the  same  when  you  and  Souspennier  meet." 

He  set  his  teeth. 

"This  time,"  he  muttered,  "I  hold  the  trumps." 

She  pointed  at  the  clock.     It  was  nearly  four. 

"She  was  there  at  eleven,"  she  remarked  drily. 


H 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

44  IS  Highness,  the  Prince  of  Saxe  Lei- 

nitzer !" 

Duson  stood  away  from  the  door 
with  a  low  bow.  The  Prince — in 
the  buttonhole  of  whose  frock-coat  was  a  large  bunch 
of  Russian  violets,  passed  across  the  threshold.  Mr. 
Sabin  rose  slowly  from  his  chair. 

"I  fear,"  the  Prince  said  suavely,  "that  I  am  an 
early  visitor.  I  can  only  throw  myself  upon  your 
indulgence  and  plead  the  urgency  of  my  mission." 

His  arrival  appeared  to  have  interrupted  a  late 
breakfast  of  the  Continental  order.  The  small  table 
at  which  Lucille  and  Mr.  Sabin  were  seated  was  cov- 
ered with  roses  and  several  dishes  of  wonderful  fruit. 
A  coffee  equipage  was  before  Lucille.  Mr.  Sabin, 
dressed  with  his  usual  peculiar  care  and  looking  ten 
years  younger,  had  just  lit  a  cigarette. 

"We  have  been  anticipating  your  visit,  Prince," 
Mr.  Sabin  remarked,  with  grim  courtesy.  "Can  we 
offer  you  coffee  or  a  liqueur?" 

"I  thank  you,  no,"  the  Prince  answered.  "I  seldom 
take  anything  before  lunch.  Let  me  beg  that  you 
do  not  disturb  yourselves.  With  your  permission  I 
will  take  this  easy-chair.  So !  That  is  excellent.  We 
can  now  talk  undisturbed." 

Mr.  Sabin  bowed. 


164      THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

"You  will  find  me,"  he  said,  "an  excellent  listener." 

The  Prince  smiled  in  an  amiable  manner.  His  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  Lucille,  who  had  drawn  her  chair 
a  little  away  from  the  table.  What  other  woman  in 
the  world  who  had  passed  her  first  youth  could  sit  thus 
in  the  slanting  sunlight  and  remain  beautiful? 

"I  will  ask  you  to  believe,"  the  Prince  said  slowly, 
"how  sincerely  I  regret  this  unavoidable  interference 
in  a  domestic  happiness  so  touching.  Nevertheless,  I 
have  come  for  the  Countess.  It  is  necessary  that  she 
returns  to  Dorset  House  this  morning." 

"You  will  oblige  me,"  Mr.  Sabin  remarked,  "by 
remembering  that  my  wife  is  the  Duchesse  de  Sous- 
pennier,  and  by  so  addressing  her." 

The  Prince  spread  out  his  hands — a  deprecating 
gesture. 

"Alas!"  he  said,  "for  the  present  it  is  not  possible. 
Until  the  little  affair  upon  which  we  are  now  engaged 
is  finally  disposed  of  it  is  necessary  that  Lucille  should 
be  known  by  the  title  which  she  bears  in  her  own  right, 
or  by  the  name  of  her  late  husband,  Mr.  James  B. 
Peterson." 

"That  little  affair,"  Mr.  Sabin  remarked,  "is,  I 
presume,  the  matter  which  you  have  come  to  explain 
to  me." 

The  Prince  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"Explain!  My  dear  Duke,  that  is  not  possible. 
It  is  not  within  your  rights  to  ask  questions  or  t© 
require  any  explanation  as  to  anything  which  Lucille 
is  required  to  do  by  us.  You  must  remember  that 
our  claim  upon  her  comes  before  yours.  It  is  a  claim 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      165 

which  she  cannot  evade  or  deny.  And  in  pursuance 
of  it,  Countess,  I  deeply  regret  having  to  tell  you  that 
your  presence  at  Dorset  House  within  the  next  hour 
is  demanded." 

Lucille  made  no  answer,  but  looked  across  the  table 
at  Mr.  Sabin  with  a  little  grimace. 

"It  is  a  comedy,"  she  murmured.  "After  all,  it 
is  a  comedy !" 

Mr.  Sabin  fingered  his  cigarette  thoughtfully. 

"I  believe,"  he  said,  "that  the  Duchess  realises  her 
responsibilities  in  this  matter.  I  myself  have  no  wish 
to  deny  them.  As  ordinary  members  we  are  both 
pledged  to  absolute  obedience.  I  therefore  place  no 
embargo  upon  the  return  of  my  wife  to  Dorset  House. 
But  there  are  certain  conditions,  Prince,  that  consid- 
ering the  special  circumstances  of  the  case  I  feel  im- 
pelled to  propose." 

"I  can  recognise,"  the  Prince  said,  "no  con- 
ditions." 

"They  are  very  harmless,"  Mr.  Sabin  continued 
calmly.  "The  first  is  that  in  a  friendly  way,  and  of 
course  under  the  inviolable  law  of  secrecy,  you  ex- 
plain to  me  for  what  part  Lucille  is  cast  in  this  little 
comedy ;  the  next  that  I  be  allowed  to  see  her  at  rea- 
sonable intervals,  and  finally  that  she  is  known  by  her 
rightful  name  as  Duchesse  de  Souspennier." 

The  forced  urbanity  which  the  Prince  had  assumed 
fell  away  from  him  without  warning.  The  tone  of 
his  reply  was  almost  a  sneer. 

"I  repeat,"  he  said,  "that  I  can  recognise  no  con- 
ditions." 


166      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"It  is  perhaps,"  Mr.  Sabin  continued,  "the  wrong 
word  to  use.  We  submit  to  your  authority,  but  you 
and  I  are  well  aware  that  your  discretionary  powers 
are  large.  I  ask  you  to  use  them." 

"And  I,"  the  Prince  said,  "refuse.  Let  me  add 
that  I  intend  to  prevent  any  recurrence  of  your  little 
adventure  of  last  night.  Lucille  shall  not  see  you 
again  until  her  task  is  over.  And  as  for  you,  my  dear 
Duke,  I  desire  only  your  absence.  I  do  not  wish  to 
hurt  your  feelings,  but  your  name  has  been  associated 
in  the  past  with  too  many  failures  to  inspire  us  with 
any  confidence  in  engaging  you  as  an  ally.  Coun- 
tess, a  carriage  from  Dorset  House  awaits  you." 

But  Lucille  sat  still,  and  Mr.  Sabin  rose  slowly  to 
his  feet. 

"I  thank  you,  Prince,"  he  said,  "for  throwing  away 
the  mask.  Fighting  is  always  better  without  the  but- 
tons. It  is  true  that  I  have  failed  more  than  once, 
but  it  is  also  true  that  my  failures  have  been  more 
magnificent  than  your  waddle  across  the  plain  of 
life.  As  for  your  present  authority,  I  challenge  you 
to  your  face  that  you  are  using  it  to  gain  your  private 
ends.  What  I  have  said  to  you  I  shall  repeat  to  those 
whose  place  is  above  yours.  Lucille  shall  go  to  Dorset 
House,  but  I  warn  you  that  I  hold  my  life  a  slight 
thing  where  her  welfare  is  concerned.  Your  hand  is 
upon  the  lever  of  a  great  organization,  I  am  only  a 
unit  in  the  world.  Yet  I  would  have  you  remember 
that  more  than  once,  Prince,  when  you  and  I  have  met 
with  the  odds  in  your  favour  the  victory  has  been 
mine.  Play  the  game  fairly,  and  you  have  nothing  to 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON       167 

fear  from  me  but  the  open  opposition  I  have  promised 
you.  Bring  but  the  shadow  of  evil  upon  her,  misuse 
your  power  but  ever  so  slightly  against  her,  and  I 
warn  you  that  I  shall  count  the  few  years  of  life  left 
to  me  a  trifle — of  less  than  no  account — until  you  and 
I  cry  quits." 

The  Prince  smiled,  a  fat,  good-natured  smile,  be- 
hind which  the  malice  was  indeed  well  hidden. 

"Come,  come,  my  dear  Souspennier,"  he  declared. 
"This  is  unworthy  of  you.  It  is  positively  melo- 
dramatic. It  reminds  me  of  the  plays  of  my  Father- 
land, and  of  your  own  Adelphi  Theatre.  We  should 
be  men  of  the  world,  you  and  I.  You  must  take  your 
defeats  with  your  victories.  I  can  assure  you  that 
the  welfare  of  the  Countess  Lucille  shall  be  my  special 
care." 

Lucille  for  the  first  time  spoke.  She  rose  from  her 
chair  and  rested  her  hands  affectionately  upon  her 
husband's  shoulder. 

"Dear  Victor,"  she  said,  "remember  that  we  are 
in  London,  and,  need  I  add,  have  confidence  in  me. 
The  Prince  of  Saxe  Leinitzer  and  I  understand  one 
another,  I  believe.  If  we  do  not  it  is  not  my  fault. 
My  presence  here  at  this  moment  should  prove  to  you 
how  eagerly  I  shall  look  forward  to  the  time  when 
our  separation  is  no  longer  necessary." 

She  passed  away  into  the  inner  room  with  a  little 
farewell  gesture  tender  and  regretful.  Mr.  Sabin 
resumed  his  seat. 

"I  believe,  Prince,"  he  said,  "that  no  good  can  come 
of  any  further  conference  between  you  and  me.  We 


168      THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

understand  one  another  too  well.  Might  I  suggest 
therefore  that  you  permit  me  to  ring?" 

The  Prince  rose  to  his  feet. 

"You  are  right,"  he  said.  "The  bandying  of 
words  between  you  and  me  is  a  waste  of  time.  We 
are  both  of  us  too  old  at  the  game.  But  come,  before 
I  go  I  will  do  you  a  good  turn.  I  will  prove  that  I 
am  in  a  generous  mood." 

Mr.  Sabin  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"If  anything  in  this  world  could  inspire  me  with 
fear,",  he  remarked,  "it  would  be  the  generosity  of  the 
Prince  of  Saxe  Leinitzer." 

The  Prince  sighed. 

"You  always  misunderstand  me,"  he  murmured. 
"However,  I  will  prove  my  words.  You  spoke  of  an 
appeal." 

"Certainly,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered.  "I  intend  to 
impeach  you  for  making  use  of  the  powers  entrusted 
to  you  for  your  own  private  ends — in  other  words, 
for  making  an  arbitrary  misuse  of  your  position." 

The  Prince  nodded. 

"It  is  very  well  put,"  he  said.  "I  shall  await  the 
result  of  your  appeal  in  fear  and  trembling.  I  con- 
fess that  I  am  very  much  afraid.  But,  come  now, 
I  am  going  to  be  generous.  I  am  going  to  help  you 
on  a  little.  Do  you  know  to  whom  your  appeal  must 
be  made  ?" 

"To  the  Grand  Duke !"  Mr.  Sabin  replied. 

The  Prince  shook  his  head. 

"Ah  me !"  he  said,  "how  long  indeed  you  have  been 
absent  from  the  world.  The  Grand  Duke  is  no  longer 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      169 

the  head  of  our  little  affair.  Shall  I  tell  you  who  has 
succeeded  him?" 

"I  can  easily  find  out,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered. 

"All,  but  I  warned  you  that  I  was  in  a  generous 
mood,"  the  Prince  said,  with  a  smile.  "I  will  save 
you  the  trouble.  With  your  permission  I  will  whis- 
per the  name  in  your  ear.  It  is  not  one  which  we 
mention  lightly." 

He  stepped  forward  and  bent  his  head  for  a  mo- 
ment. Afterwards,  as  he  drew  back,  the  smile  upon 
his  lips  broadened  until  he  showed  all  his  teeth.  It 
was  a  veritable  triumph.  Mr.  Sabin,  taken  wholly 
by  surprise,  had  not  been  able  to  conceal  his  consterna- 
tion. 

"It  is  not  possible,"  he  exclaimed  hoarsely.  "He 
would  not  dare." 

But  in  his  heart  he  knew  that  the  Prince  had  spoken 
the  truth. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

£  £         A         FTER  all,"  said  the  Prince,  looking 

/  ^  up  from  the  wine  list,  "why  cannot 

/ %         I  be  satisfied  with  you?     And  why 

cannot  you  be  satisfied  with  me? 

It  would  save  so  much  trouble." 

Lady  Carey,  who  was  slowly  unwinding  the  white 
veil  from  her  picture  hat,  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"My  dear  man,"  she  said,  "you  could  not  seriously 
expect  me  to  fall  in  love  with  you." 

The  Prince  sipped  his  wine — a  cabinet  hock  of  rare 
vintage — and  found  it  good.  He  leaned  over  towards 
his  companion. 

"Why  not?"  he  asked.  "I  wish  that  you  would 
try — in  earnest,  I  mean.  You  are  capable  of  great 
things,  I  believe — perhaps  of  the  great  passion  it- 
self." 

"Perhaps,"  she  murmured  derisively. 

"And  yet,"  he  continued,  "there  has  always  been 
in  our  love-making  a  touch  of  amateurishness.  It  is 
an  awkward  word,  but  I  do  not  know  how  better  to 
explain  myself." 

"I  understand  you  perfectly,"  she  answered.  "I 
can  also,  I  think,  explain  it.  It  is  because  I  never 
cared  a  rap  about  you." 

The  Prince  did  not  appear  altogether  pleased.  He 
curled  his  fair  moustache,  and  looked  deprecatingly 


THE     YELLOW     CRAYON       171 

at  his  companion.  She  had  so  much  the  air  of  a 
woman  who  has  spoken  the  truth. 

"My  dear  Muriel!"  he  protested. 

She  looked  at  him  insolently. 

"My  good  man,"  she  said,  "whatever  you  do  don't 
try  and  be  sentimental.  You  know  quite  well  that  I 
have  never  in  my  life  pretended  to  care  a  rap  about 
you — except  to  pass  the  time.  You  are  altogether 
too  obvious.  Very  young  girls  and  very  old  women 
would  rave  about  you.  You  simply  don't  appeal  to 
me.  Perhaps  I  know  you  too  well.  What  does  it 
matter !" 

He  sighed  and  examined  a  sauce  critically.  They 
were  lunching  at  Prince's  alone,  at  a  small  table  near 
the  wall. 

"Your  taste,"  he  remarked  a  little  spitefully, 
"would  be  considered  a  trifle  strange.  Souspennier 
carries  his  years  well,  but  he  must  be  an  old  man." 

She  sipped  her  wine  thoughtfully. 

"Old  or  young,"  she  said,  "he  is  a  man,  and  all  my 
life  I  have  loved  men — strong  men.  To  have  him 
here  opposite  to  me  at  this  moment,  mine,  belonging 
to  me,  the  slave  of  my  will,  I  would  give — well,  I 
would  give — a  year  of  my  life — my  new  tiara — any- 
thing !" 

"What  a  pity,"  he  murmured,  "that  we  cannot 
make  an  exchange,  you  and  I,  Lucille  and  he !" 

"Ah,  Lucille !"  she  murmured.  "Well,  she  is  beau- 
tiful. That  goes  for  much.  And  she  has  the  grand 
air.  But,  heavens,  how  stupid !" 

"Stupid!"  he  repeated  doubtfully. 


172       THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

She  drummed  nervously  upon  the  tablecloth  with 
her  fingers. 

"Oh,  not  stupid  in  the  ordinary  way,  of  course, 
but  yet  a  fool.  I  should  like  to  see  man  or  devil 
try  and  separate  us  if  I  belonged  to  him — until  I  was 
tired  of  him.  That  would  come,  of  course.  It  comes 
always.  It  is  the  hideous  part  of  life." 

"You  look  always,"  he  said,  "a  little  too  far  for- 
ward. It  is  a  mistake.  After  all,  it  is  the  present 
only  which  concerns  us." 

"Admirable  philosophy,"  she  laughed  scornfully, 
"but  when  one  is  bored  to  death  in  the  present  one 
must  look  forward  or  backwards  for  consolation." 

He  continued  his  lunch  in  silence  for  a  while. 

"I  am  rebuked!"  he  said. 

There  came  a  pause  in  the  courses.  He  looked  at 
her  critically.  She  was  very  handsomely  dressed  in 
a  walking  costume  of  dove-coloured  grey.  The  ostrich 
feathers  which  drooped  from  her  large  hat  were  al- 
most priceless.  She  had  the  undeniable  air  of  being 
a  person  of  breeding.  But  she  was  paler  even  than 
usual,  her  hair,  notwithstanding  its  careful  arrange- 
ment, gave  signs  of  being  a  little  thin  in  front.  There 
were  wrinkles  at  the  corners  of  her  eyes.  She  knew 
these  things,  but  she  bore  his  inspection  with  indiffer- 
ence. 

"I  wonder,"  he  said  reflectively,  "what  we  men  see 
in  you.  You  have  plenty  of  admirers.  They  say  that 
Grefton  got  himself  shot  out  at  the  front  because  you 
treated  him  badly.  Yet — you  are  not  much  to  look 
at,  are  you?" 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      173 

She  laughed  at  him.  Hers  was  never  a  pleasant 
laugh,  but  this  time  it  was  at  least  natural. 

"How  discriminating,"  she  declared.  "I  am  an 
ugly  woman,  and  men  of  taste  usually  prefer  ugly 
women.  Then  I  am  always  well  dressed.  I  know 
how  to  wear  my  clothes.  And  I  have  a  shocking  repu- 
tation. A  really  wicked  woman,  I  once  heard  pious 
old  Lady  Surbiton  call  me !  Dear  old  thing !  It  did 
me  no  end  of  good.  Then  I  have  the  very  great  ad- 
vantage of  never  caring  for  any  one  more  than  a  few 
days  together.  Men  find  that  annoying." 

"You  have  violent  fancies,"  he  remarked,  "and 
strange  ones." 

"Perhaps,"  she  admitted.  "They  concern  no  one 
except  myself." 

"This  Souspennier  craze,  for  instance !" 

She  nodded. 

"Well,  you  can't  say  that  I'm  not  honest.  It  is 
positively  my  only  virtue.  I  adore  the  truth.  I  loathe 
a  lie.  That  is  one  reason,  I  daresay,  why  I  can  only 
barely  tolerate  you.  You  are  a  shocking — a  gross 
liar." 

"Muriel !" 

"Oh,  don't  look  at  me  like  that,"  she  exclaimed 
irritably.  "You  must  hear  the  truth  sometimes.  And 
now,  please  remember  that  I  came  to  lunch  with  you 
to  hear  about  your  visit — this  morning." 

The  Prince  gnawed  his  moustache,  and  the  light  in 
his  eyes  was  not  a  pleasant  thing  to  see.  This  woman 
with  her  reckless  life,  her  odd  fascination,  her  brusque 
hatred  of  affectations,  was  a  constant  torment  to  him, 


174      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

If  only  he  could  once  get  her  thoroughly  into  his 
power. 

"My  visit,"  he  said,  "was  wholly  successful.  It 
could  not  well  be  otherwise.  Lucille  has  returned  to 
Dorset  House.  Souspennier  is  confounded  altogether 
by  a  little  revelation  which  I  ventured  to  make.  He 
spoke  of  an  appeal.  I  let  him  know  with  whom  he 
would  have  to  deal.  I  left  him  nerveless  and  crushed. 
He  can  do  nothing  save  by  open  revolt.  And  if  he 
tries  that — well,  there  will  be  no  more  of  this  won- 
derful Mr.  Sabin." 

"Altogether  a  triumph  to  you,"  she  remarked 
scornfully.  "Oh,  I  know  the  sort  of  thing.  But, 
after  all,  my  dear  Ferdinand,  what  of  last  night.  I 
hate  the  woman,  but  she  played  the  game,  and  played 
it  well.  We  were  fooled,  both  of  us.  And  to  think 
that  I " 

She  broke  off  with  a  short  laugh.  The  Prince 
looked  at  her  curiously. 

"Perhaps,"  he  said,  "you  had  some  idea  of  consol- 
ing the  desolate  husband?" 

"Perhaps  I  had,"  she  answered  coolly.  "It  didn't 
come  off,  did  it?  Order  me  some  coffee,  and  give  me 
a  cigarette,  my  friend.  I  have  something  else  to  say 
to  you." 

He  obeyed  her,  and  she  leaned  back  in  the  high 
chair. 

"Listen  to  me,"  she  said.  "I  have  nothing  what- 
ever to  do  with  you  and  Lucille.  I  suppose  you  will 
get  your  revenge  on  Souspennier  through  her.  It 
won't  be  like  you  if  you  don't  try,  and  you  ought  to 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      175 

have  the  game  pretty  well  in  your  own  hands.  But 
I  won't  have  Souspennier  harmed.  You  understand?'* 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Souspennier,"  he  said,  "must  take  care.  If  he 
oversteps  the  bounds  he  must  pay  the  penalty." 

She  leaned  forward.  There  was  a  look  in  her  face 
which  he  knew  very  well. 

"You  and  I  understand  one  another,"  she  said 
coolly.  "If  you  want  me  for  an  enemy  you  can  have 
me.  Very  likely  I  shall  tell  you  before  long  that 
you  can  do  what  you  like  with  the  man.  But  until 
I  do  it  will  be  very  dangerous  for  you  if  harm  comes 
to  him." 

"It  is  no  use,"  he  answered  doggedly.  "If  he  at- 
tacks he  must  be  silenced." 

"If  he  attacks,"  she  answered,  "you  must  give  me 
twenty-four  hours'  clear  notice  before  you  move  a 
hand  against  him.  Afterwards — well,  we  will  discuss 
that." 

"You  had  better,"  he  said,  looking  at  her  with  an 
ugly  gleam  in  his  eyes,  "persuade  him  to  take  you 
for  a  little  tour  on  the  Continent.  It  would  be  safer." 

"If  he  would  come,"  she  said  coolly,  "I  would  go 
to-morrow.  But  he  won't — just  yet.  Never  mind. 
You  have  heard  what  I  wanted  to  say.  Now  shall 
we  go?  I  am  going  to  get  some  sleep  this  afternoon. 
Everybody  tells  me  that  I  look  like  a  ghost." 

"Why  not  come  to  Grosvenor  Square  with  me?"  he 
said,  leaning  a  little  across  the  table.  "Patoff  shall 
make  you  some  Russian  tea,  and  afterwards  you  shall 
sleep  as  long  as  you  like." 


176      THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

"How  idyllic!"  she  answered,  with  a  faint  sarcastic 
smile.  "It  goes  to  my  heart  to  decline  so  charming 
an  invitation.  But,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  it  would 
bore  me  excessively." 

He  muttered  something  under  his  breath  which 
startled  the  waiter  at  his  elbow.  Then  he  followed 
her  out  of  the  room.  She  paused  for  a  few  moments 
in  the  portico  to  finish  buttoning  her  gloves. 

"Many  thanks  for  my  lunch,"  she  said,  nodding 
to  him  carelessly.  "I'm  sure  I've  been  a  delightful 
companion." 

"You  have  been  a  very  tormenting  one,"  he  an- 
swered gloomily  as  he  followed  her  out  on  to  the  pave- 
ment. 

"You  should  try  Lucille,"  she  suggested  mali- 
ciously. 

He  stood  by  her  side  while  they  waited  for  her 
carriage,  and  looked  at  her  critically.  Her  slim, 
elegant  figure  had  never  seemed  more  attractive  to 
him.  Even  the  insolence  of  her  tone  and  manner 
had  an  odd  sort  of  fascination.  He  tried  to  hold  for 
a  moment  the  fingers  which  grasped  her  skirt. 

"I  think,"  he  whispered,  "that  after  you  Lucille 
would  be  dull !" 

She  laughed. 

"That  is  because  Lucille  has  morals  and  a  con- 
science," she  said,  "and  I  have  neither.  But,  dear  me, 
how  much  more  comfortably  one  gets  on  without  them. 
No,  thank  you,  Prince.  My  coupe  is  only  built  for 
one.  Remember." 

She  flung  him  a  careless  nod  from  the  window.    The 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      177 

Prince  remained  on  the  pavement  until  after  the  little 
brougham  had  driven  away.  Then  he  smiled  softly 
to  himself  as  he  turned  to  follow  it. 

"No!"  he  said.  "I  think  not!  I  think  that  she 
will  not  get  our  good  friend  Souspennier.  We  shall 
see!" 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

A  BARELY  furnished  man's  room,  com- 
fortable, austere,  scholarly.  The  refuge 
of  a  busy  man,  to  judge  by  the  piles  of 
books  and  papers  which  littered  the 
large  open  writing-table.  There  were  despatch  boxes 
turned  upside  down,  a  sea  of  parchment  and  foolscap. 
In  the  midst  of  it  all  a  man  deep  in  thought. 

A  visitor,  entering  with  the  freedom  of  an  old  ac- 
quaintance, laid  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder  and 
greeted  him  with  an  air  of  suppressed  enthusiasm. 

"Planning  the  campaign,  eh,  Brott?  Or  is  that  a 
handbook  to  Court  etiquette?  You  will  need  it  within 
the  week.  There  are  all  sorts  of  rumours  at  the 
clubs." 

Brott  shook  himself  free  from  his  fit  of  apathetic 
reflection.  He  would  not  have  dared  to  tell  his  visitor 
where  his  thoughts  had  been  for  the  last  half  hour. 

"Somehow,"  he  said,  "I  do  not  think  that  little  trip 
to  Windsor  will  come  just  yet.  The  King  will  never 
send  for  me  unless  he  is  compelled." 

His  visitor,  an  ex-Cabinet  Minister,  a  pronounced 
Radical  and  a  lifelong  friend  of  Brott's,  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 

"That  time,"  he  said,  "is  very  close  at  hand.  He 
will  send  for  Letheringham  first,  of  course,  and  great 
pressure  will  be  brought  to  bear  upon  him  to  form  a 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      179 

ministry.  But  without  you  he  will  be  helpless.  He 
has  not  the  confidence  of  the  people." 

"Without  me,"  Brott  repeated  slowly.  "You  think 
then  that  I  should  not  accept  office  with  Lethering- 
ham?" 

His  visitor  regarded  him  steadily  for  a  moment, 
open-mouthed,  obviously  taken  aback. 

"Brott,  are  you  in  your  right  senses?"  he  asked 
incredulously.  "Do  you  know  what  you  are  saying?" 

Brott  laughed  a  little  nervously. 

"This  is  a  great  issue,  Grahame,"  he  said.  "I  will 
confess  that  I  am  in  an  undecided  state.  I  am  not 
sure  that  the  country  is  in  a  sufficiently  advanced 
state  for  our  propaganda.  Is  this  really  our  oppor- 
tunity, or  is  it  only  the  shadow  of  what  is  to  come 
thrown  before?  If  we  show  our  hand  too  soon  all  is 
lost  for  this  generation.  Don't  look  at  me  as  though 
I  were  insane,  Grahame.  Remember  that  the  country 
is  only  just  free  from  a  long  era  of  Conservative  rule." 

"The  better  our  opportunity,"  Grahame  answered 
vigorously.  "Two  decades  of  puppet  government 
are  enervating,  I  admit,  but  they  only  pave  the  way 
more  surely  to  the  inevitable  reaction.  What  is  the 
matter  with  you,  Brott?  Are  you  ill?  This  is  the 
great  moment  of  our  lives.  You  must  speak  at  Man- 
chester and  Birmingham  within  this  week.  Glasgow 
is  already  preparing  for  you.  Everything  and  every- 
body waits  for  your  judgment.  Good  God,  man,  it's 
magnificent !  Where's  your  enthusiasm  ?  Within  a 
month  you  must  be  Prime  Minister,  and  we  will  show 
the  world  the  way  to  a  new  era." 


180       THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

Brott  sat  quite  still.  His  friend's  words  had  stirred 
him  for  the  moment.  Yet  he  seemed  the  victim  of  a 
curious  indecision.  Grahame  leaned  over  towards  him. 

"Brott,  old  friend,"  he  said,  "you  are  not  ill?" 

Brott  shook  his  head. 

*'I  am  perfectly  well,"  he  said. 

Grahame  hesitated. 

"It  is  a  delicate  thing  to  mention,"  he  said.  "Per- 
haps I  shall  pass  even  the  bounds  of  our  old  comrade- 
ship. But  you  have  changed.  Something  is  wrong 
with  you.  What  is  it?" 

"There  is  nothing,"  Brott  answered,  looking  up. 
"It  is  your  fancy.  I  am  well  enough." 

Grahame's  face  was  dark  with  anxiety. 

"This  is  no  idle  curiosity  of  mine,"  he  said.  "You 
know  me  better  than  that.  But  the  cause  which  is 
nearer  my  heart  than  life  itself  is  at  stake.  Brott, 
you  are  the  people's  man,  their  promised  redeemer. 
Think  of  them,  the  toilers,  the  oppressed,  God's 
children,  groaning  under  the  iniquitous  laws  of  gen- 
erations of  evil  statesmanship.  It  is  the  dawn  of 
their  new  day,  their  faces  are  turned  to  you.  Man, 
can't  you  hear  them  crying?  You  can't  fail  them. 
You  mustn't.  I  don't  know  what  is  the  matter  with 
you,  Brott,  but  away  with  it.  Free  yourself,  man." 

Brott  sighed  wearily,  but  already  there  was  a 
change  in  him.  His  face  was  hardening — the  lines 
in  his  face  deepened.  Grahame  continued  hastily — 
eagerly. 

"Public  men,"  he  said,  "are  always  at  the  mercy 
of  the  halfpenny  press,  but  you  know,  Brott,  your 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      181 

appearance  so  often  in  Society  lately  has  set  men's 
tongues  wagging.  There  is  no  harm  done,  but  it  is 
time  to  stop  them.  You  are  right  to  want  to  under- 
stand these  people.  You  must  go  down  amongst 
them.  It  has  been  slumming  in  Mayfair  for  you, 
I  know.  But  have  done  with  it  now.  It  is  these 
people  we  are  going  to  fight.  Let  it  be  open  war. 
Let  them  hear  your  programme  at  Glasgow.  We 
don't  want  another  French  Revolution,  but  it  is  going 
to  be  war  against  the  drones,  fierce,  merciless  war! 
You  must  break  with  them,  Brott,  once  and  for  ever. 
And  the  time  is  now." 

Brott  held  out  his  hand  across  the  table.  No  one 
but  this  one  man  could  have  read  the  struggle  in  his 
face. 

"You  are  right,  Grahame.  I  thank  you.  I  thank 
you  as  much  for  what  you  have  left  unsaid  as  for 
what  you  have  said.  I  was  a  fool  to  think  of  com- 
promising. Letheringham  is  a  nerveless  leader.  We 
should  have  gone  pottering  on  for  another  seven 
years.  Thank  God  that  you  came  when  you  did.  See 
here !" 

He  tossed  him  over  a  letter.  Grahame' s  cheek  paled 
as  he  read. 

"Already !"  he  murmured. 

Brott  nodded. 

"Read  it !" 

Grahame  devoured  every  word.  His  eyes  lit  up 
with  excitement. 

"My  prophecy  exactly,"  he  exclaimed,  laying  it 
down.  "It  is  as  I  said.  He  cannot  form  the  ministry 


182      THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

without  you.  His  letter  is  abject.  He  gives  himself 
awajr.  It  is  an  entreaty.  And  your  answer  ?" 

"Has  not  yet  gone,"  Brott  said.  "You  shall  write 
it  yourself  if  you  like.  I  am  thankful  that  you  came 
when  you  did." 

"You  were  hesitating?"  Grahame  exclaimed. 

"I  was." 

Grahame  looked  at  him  in  wonder,  and  Brott  faced 
him  sturdily. 

"It  seems  like  treason  to  you,  Grahame!"  he  said. 
"So  it  does  to  me  now.  I  want  nothing  in  the  future 
to  come  between  us,"  he  continued  more  slowly,  "and 
I  should  like  if  I  can  to  expunge  the  memory  of  this 
interview.  And  so  I  am  going  to  tell  you  the  truth." 

Grahame  held  out  his  hand. 

"Don't !"  he  said.     "I  can  forget  without." 

Brott  shook  his  head. 

"No,"  he  said.  "You  had  better  understand  every- 
thing. The  halfpenny  press  told  the  truth.  Yet  only 
half  the  truth.  I  have  been  to  all  these  places,  wasted 
my  time,  wasted  their  time,  from  a  purely  selfish  rea- 
son— to  be  near  the  only  woman  I  have  ever  cared 
for,  the  woman,  Grahame!" 

"I  knew  it,"  Grahame  murmured.  "I  fought 
against  the  belief,  I  thought  that  I  had  stifled  it.  But 
I  knew  it  all  the  time." 

"If  I  have  seemed  lukewarm  sometimes  of  late," 
Brott  said,  "there  is  the  cause.  She  is  an  aristocrat, 
and  my  politics  are  hateful  to  her.  She  has  told  me 
so  seriously,  playfully,  angrily.  She  has  let  me  feel 
it  in  a  hundred  ways.  She  has  drawn  me  into  dis- 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON      183 

cussions  and  shown  the  utmost  horror  of  my  views. 
I  have  cared  for  her  all  my  life,  and  she  knows  it. 
'And  I  think,  Grahame,  that  lately  she  has  been  try- 
ing constantly,  persistently,  to  tone  down  my  opin- 
ions. She  has  let  me  understand  that  they  are  a  bar 
between  us.  And  it  is  a  horrible  confession,  Grahame, 
but  I  believe  that  I  was  wavering.  This1  invitation 
from  Letheringham  seemed  such  a  wonderful  oppor- 
tunity for  compromise." 

"This  must  never  go  out  of  the  room,"  Grahame 
said  hoarsely.  "It  would  ruin  your  popularity.  They 
would  never  trust  you  again." 

"I  shall  tell  no  one  else,"  Brott  said. 

"And  it  is  over?"  Grahame  demanded  eagerly. 

"It  is  over." 

#  *  *  *  * 

The  Duke  of  Dorset,  who  entertained  for  his  party, 
gave  a  great  dinner  that  night  at  Dorset  House,  and 
towards  its  close  the  Prince  of  Saxe  Leinitzer,  who 
was  almost  the  only  non-political  guest,  moved  up  to 
his  host  in  response  to  an  eager  summons.  The  Duke 
was  perturbed. 

"You  have  heard  the  news,  Saxe  Leinitzer?" 

"I  did  not  know  of  any  news,"  the  Prince  an- 
swered. "What  is  it?" 

"Brott  has  refused  to  join  with  Letheringham  in 
forming  a  ministry.  It  is  rumoured  even  that  a  coali- 
tion was  proposed,  and  that  Brott  would  have  nothing 
to  do  with  it." 

The  Prince  looked  into  his  wineglass. 

"Ah!"  he  said. 


184       THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"This  is  disturbing  news,"  the  Duke  continued 
"You  do  not  seem  to  appreciate  its  significance." 

The  Prince  looked  up  again. 

"Perhaps  not,"  he  said.  "You  shall  explain  to 
me." 

"Brott  refuses  to  compromise,"  the  Duke  said. 
"He  stands  for  a  ministry  of  his  own  selection. 
Heaven  only  knows  what  mischief  this  may  mean. 
His  doctrines  are  thoroughly  revolutionary.  He  is  an 
iconoclast  with  a  genius  for  destruction.  But  he  has 
the  ear  of  the  people.  He  is  to-day  their  Rienzi." 

The  Prince  nodded. 

"And  Lucille?"  he  remarked.  "What  does  she  say?" 

"I  have  not  spoken  to  her,"  the  Duke  answered. 
"The  news  has  only  just  come." 

"We  will  speak  to  her,"  the  Prince  said,  "together." 

Afterwards  in  the  library  there  was  a  sort  of  in- 
formal meeting,  and  their  opportunity  came. 

"So  you  have  failed,  Countess,"  her  host  said,  knit- 
ting his  grey  brows  at  her. 

She  smilingly  acknowledged  defeat. 

"But  I  can  assure  you,"  she  said,  "that  I  was  very 
near  success.  Only  on  Monday  he  had  virtually  made 
up  his  mind  to  abandon  the  extreme  party  and  cast 
in  his  lot  with  Letheringham.  What  has  happened 
to  change  him  I  do  not  know." 

The  Prince  curled  his  fair  moustache. 

"It  is  a  pity,"  he  said,  "that  he  changed  his  mind. 
For  one  thing  is  very  certain.  The  Duke  and  I  are 
agreed  upon  it.  A  Brott  ministry  must  never  be 
formed." 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      185 

She  looked  up  quickly. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

The  Prince  answered  her  without  hesitation. 

"If  one  course  fails,"  he  said,  "another  must  be 
adopted.  I  regret  having  to  make  use  of  means  which 
are  somewhat  clumsy  and  obvious.  But  our  pro- 
nouncement on  this  one  point  is  final.  Brott  must  not 
be  allowed  to  form  a  ministry." 

She  looked  at  him  with  something  like  horror  in  her 
soft  full  eyes. 

"What  would  you  do?"  she  murmured. 

The  Prince  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "we  are  not  quite  mediaeval  enough 
to  adopt  the  only  really  sensible  method  and  remove 
Mr.  Brott  permanently  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 
We  should  stop  a  little  short  of  that,  but  I  can  assure 
you  that  Mr.  Brott's  health  for  the  next  few  months  is 
a  matter  for  grave  uncertainty.  It  is  a  pity  for  his 
sake  that  you  failed." 

She  bit  her  lip. 

"Do  you  know  if  he  is  still  in  London?"  she  asked. 

"He  must  be  on  the  point  of  leaving  for  Scotland," 
the  Duke  answered.  "If  he  once  mounts  the  platform 
at  Glasgow  there  will  be  no  further  chance  of  any 
compromise.  He  will  be  committed  irretrievably  to 
his  campaign  of  anarchy." 

"And  to  his  own  disaster,"  the  Prince  murmured. 

Lucille  remained  for  a  moment  deep  in  thought. 
Then  she  looked  up. 

"If  I  can  find  him  before  he  starts,"  she  said  hur- 
riedly, "I  will  make  one  last  effort." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


He  peered  forward  over  his  desk 
at  the  tall  graceful  figure  whose 
entrance  had  been  so  noiseless,  and 
whose  footsteps  had  been  so  light  that  she  stood  al- 
most within  a  few  feet  of  him  before  he  was  even  aware 
of  her  presence.  Then  his  surprise  was  so  great  that 
he  could  only  gasp  out  her  name. 

"You !  Lucille !" 

She  smiled  upon  him  delightfully. 

"Me!  Lucille!  Don't  blame  your  servant.  I  as- 
sured him  that  I  was  expected,  so  he  allowed  me  to 
enter  unannounced.  His  astonishment  was  a  delight- 
ful testimony  to  your  reputation,  by  the  bye.  He 
was  evidently  not  used  to  these  invasions." 

Brott  had  recovered  himself  by  this  time,  and  if 
any  emotion  still  remained  he  was  master  of  it. 

"You  must  forgive  my  surprise!"  he  said.  "You 
have  of  course  something  important  to  say  to  me. 
Will  you  not  loosen  your  cloak?" 

She  unfastened  the  clasp  and  seated  herself  in  his 
most  comfortable  chair.  The  firelight  flashed  and 
glittered  on  the  silver  ornaments  of  her  dress ;  her 
neck  and  arms,  with  their  burden  of  jewels,  gleamed 
like  porcelain  in  the  semi-darkness  outside  the  halo 
of  his  student  lamp.  And  he  saw  that  her  dark  hair 


THE     YELLOW     CRAYON       1ST 

hung  low  behind  in  graceful  folds  as  he  had  once 
admired  it.  He  stood  a  little  apart,  and  she  noted 
his  travelling  clothes  and  the  various  signs  if  a  jour- 
ney about  the  room. 

"You  may  be  glad  to  see  me,"  she  remarked,  look- 
ing at  him  with  a  smile.  "You  don't  look  it." 

"I  am  anxious  to  hear  your  news,"  he  answered. 
"I  am  convinced  that  you  have  something  important 
to  say  to  me." 

"Supposing,"  she  answered,  still  looking  at  him 
steadily,  "supposing  I  were  to  say  that  I  had  no  object 
in  coming  here  at  all — that  it  was  merely  a  whim? 
What  should  you  say  then?" 

"I  should  take  the  liberty,"  he  answered  quietly, 
"of  doubting  the  evidence  of  my  senses." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  She  felt  his  aloof- 
ness. It  awoke  in  her  some  of  the  enthusiasm  with 
which  this  mission  itself  had  failed  to  inspire  her. 
This  man  was  measuring  his  strength  against  hers. 

"It  was  not  altogether  a  whim,"  she  said,  her  eyes 
falling  from  his,  "and  yet — now  I  am  here — it  does 
not  seem  easy  to  say  what  was  in  my  mind." 

He  glanced  towards  the  clock. 

"I  fear,"  he  said,  "that  it  may  sound  ungallant, 
but  in  case  this  somewhat  mysterious  mission  of  yours 
is  of  any  importance  I  had  better  perhaps  tell  you 
that  in  twenty  minutes  I  must  leave  to  catch  the  Scotch 
mail." 

She  rose  at  once  to  her  feet,  and  swept  her  cloak 
haughtily  around  her. 

"I  have  made  a  mistake,"  she  said.     "Be  so  good 


188      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

as  to  pardon  my  intrusion.  I  shall  not  trouble  you 
again." 

She  w*».s  half-way  across  the  room.  She  was  at  the 
door,  her  hand  was  upon  the  handle.  He  was  white 
to  the  lips,  his  whole  frame  was  shaking  with  the 
effort  of  intense  repression.  He  kept  silence,  till  only 
a  flutter  of  her  cloak  was  to  be  seen  in  the  doorway. 
And  then  the  cry  which  he  had  tried  so  hard  to  stifle 
broke  from  his  lips. 

"Lucille!   Lucille!" 

She  hesitated,  and  came  back — looking  at  him,  so 
he  thought,  with  trembling  lips  and  eyes  soft  with 
unshed  tears. 

"I  was  a  brute,"  he  murmured.  "I  ought  to  be 
grateful  for  this  chance  of  seeing  you  once  more,  of 
saying  good-bye  to  you." 

"Good-bye !"  she  repeated. 

"Yes,"  he  said  gravely.  "It  must  be  good-bye. 
I  have  a  great  work  before  me,  and  it  will  cut  me  off 
completely  from  all  association  with  your  world  and 
your  friends.  Something  wider  and  deeper  than  an 
ocean  will  divide  us.  Something  so  wide  that  our 
hands  will  never  reach  across." 

"You  can  talk  about  it  very  calmly,"  she  said, 
without  looking  at  him. 

"I  have  been  disciplining  myself,"  he  answered. 

She  rested  her  face  upon  her  hand,  and  looked  into 
the  fire. 

"I  suppose,"  she  said,  "this  means  that  you  have 
refused  Mr.  Letheringham's  offer." 

"I  have  refused  it,"  he  answered. 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      189 

"I  am  sorry,"  she  said  simply. 

She  rose  from  her  chair  with  a  sudden  start,  began 
to  draw  on  her  cloak,  and  then  let  it  fall  altogether 
from  her  shoulders. 

"Why  do  you  do  this?"  she  asked  earnestly.  "Is 
it  that  you  are  so  ambitious  ?  You  used  not  to  be  so — 
in  the  old  da3rs." 

He  laughed  bitterly. 

"You  too,  then,"  he  said,  "can  remember.  Am- 
bitious! Well,  why  not?  To  be  Premier  of  England, 
to  stand  for  the  people,  to  carry  through  to  its  logical 
consummation  a  bloodless  revolution,  surely  this  is 
worth  while.  Is  there  anything  in  the  world  better 
worth  having  than  power?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  looking  him  full  in  the  eyes. 

"What  is  it  then?  Let  me  know  before  it  is  too 
late." 

"Love !" 

He  threw  his  arms  about  her.  For  a  moment  she 
was  powerless  in  his  grasp. 

"So  be  it  then,"  he  cried  fiercely.  "Give  me  the 
one,  and  I  will  deny  the  other.  Only  no  half  meas- 
ures !  I  will  drink  to  the  bottom  of  the  cup  or  not 
at  all." 

She  shook  herself  free  from  him,  breathless,  con- 
sumed with  an  anger  to  which  she  dared  not  give  voice. 
For  a  moment  or  two  she  was  speechless.  Her  bosom 
rose  and  fell,  a  bright  streak  of  colour  flared  in  her 
cheeks.  Brott  stood  away  from  her,  white  and  stern. 

"You — are  clumsy!"  she  said.  "You  frighten 
me!" 


190       THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

Her  words  carried  no  conviction.  He  looked  at  her 
with  a  new  suspicion. 

"You  talk  like  a  child,"  he  answered  roughly,  "or 
else  your  whole  conduct  is  a  fraud.  For  months  I 
have  been  your  slave.  I  have  abandoned  my  prin- 
ciples, given  you  my  time,  followed  at  your  heels  like 
a  tame  dog.  And  for  what?  You  will  not  marry  me, 
you  will  not  commit  yourself  to  anything.  You  are 
a  past  mistress  in  the  art  of  binding  fools  to  your 
chariot  wheels.  You  know  that  I  love  you — that  there 
breathes  on  this  earth  no  other  woman  for  me  but  you. 
I  Have  told  you  this  in  all  save  words  a  hundred  times. 
And  now — now  it  is  my  turn.  I  have  been  played  with 
long  enough.  You  are  here  unbidden — unexpected. 
You  can  consider  that  door  locked.  Now  tell  me  why 
you  came." 

Lucille  had  recovered  herself.  She  stood  before 
him,  white  but  calm. 

"Because,"  she  said,  "I  am  a  woman." 

"That  means  that  you  came  without  reason — on 
impulse?"  he  asked. 

"I  came,"  she  said,  "because  I  heard  that  you  were 
about  to  take  a  step  which  must  separate  us  for  ever." 

"And  that,"  he  asked,  "disturbed  you?" 

"Yes!" 

"Come,  we  are  drawing  nearer  together,"  he  said, 
a  kindling  light  in  his  eyes.  "Now  answer  me  this. 
How  much  do  you  care  if  this  eternal  separation  does 
come?  Here  am  I  on  the  threshold  of  action.  Unless 
I  change  my  mind  within  ten  minutes  I  must  throw 
in  my  lot  with  those  whom  you  and  your  Order  ^oathe 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      191 

and  despise.  There  can  be  no  half  measures.  I  must 
be  their  leader,  or  I  must  vanish  from  the  face  of  the 
political  world.  This  I  will  do  if  you  bid  me.  But 
the  price  must  be  yourself — wholly,  without  reserva- 
tion— yourself,  body  and  soul." 

"You  care — as  much  as  that?"  she  murmured. 

"Ask  me  no  questions,  answer  mine !"  he  cried 
fiercely.  "You  shall  stay  with  me  here — or  in  five 
minutes  I  leave  on  my  campaign." 

She  laughed  musically. 

"This  is  positively  delicious,"  she  exclaimed.  "I 
am  being  made  love  to  in  mediaeval  fashion.  Other 
times  other  manners,  sir!  Will  you  listen  to  reason?" 

"I  will  listen  to  nothing — save  your  answer,  yes 
or  no,"  he  declared,  drawing  on  his  overcoat. 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"Reginald,"  she  said,  "you  are  like  the  whirlwind 
— and  how  can  I  answer  you  in  five  minutes !" 

"You  can  answer  me  in  one,"  he  declared  fiercely. 
"Will  you  pay  my  price  if  I  do  your  bidding?  Yes  or 
no!  The  price  is  yourself.  Now!  Yes  or  no?" 

She  drew  on  her  own  cloak  and  fastened  the  clasp 
with  shaking  fingers.  Then  she  turned  towards  the 
door. 

"I  wish  you  good-bye  and  good  fortune,  Reginald," 
she  said.  "I  daresay  we  may  not  meet  again.  It 
will  be  better  that  we  do  not." 

"This  then  is  your  answer?"  he  cried. 

She  looked  around  at  him.  Was  it  his  fancy,  or 
were  those  tears  in  her  eyes?  Or  was  she  really  so 
wonderful  an  actress?" 


192      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"Do  you  think,"  she  said,  "that  if  I  had  not  cared 
I  should  have  come  here?" 

"Tell  me  that  in  plain  words,"  he  cried.  "It  is  all 
I  ask." 

The  door  was  suddenly  opened.  Grahame  stood 
upon  the  threshold.  He  looked  beyond  Lucille  to 
Brott. 

"You  must  really  forgive  me,"  he  said,  "but 
there  is  barely  time  to  catch  the  train,  Brott.  I  have 
a  hansom  waiting,  and  your  luggage  is  on." 

Brott  answered  nothing.  Lucille  held  out  her 
hands  to  him. 

"Yes  or  no  ?"  he  asked  her  in  a  low  hoarse  tone. 

"You  must — give  me  time!  I  don't  want  to  lose 
you.  I " 

He  caught  up  his  coat. 

"Coming,  Grahame,"  he  said  firmly.  "Countess,  I 
must  beg  your  pardon  ten  thousand  times  for  this 
abrupt  departure.  My  servants  will  call  your  car- 
riage." 

She  leaned  towards  him,  beautiful,  anxious,  allur- 
ing. 

"Reginald!" 

"Yes  or  no,"  he  whispered  in  her  ear. 

"Give  me  until  to-morrow,"  she  faltered. 

"Not  one  moment,"  he  answered.  "Yes — now,  this 
instant — or  I  go!" 

"Brott!  My  dear  man,  we  have  not  a  second  to 
lose." 

"You  hear!"  he  muttered.    "Yes  or  no?" 

She  trembled. 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      193 

"Give  me  until  to-morrow,"  she  begged.  "It  is  for 
your  own  sake.  For  your  own  safety." 

He  turned  on  his  heel!  His  muttered  speech  was 
profane,  but  inarticulate.  *  He  sprang  into  the  han- 
som by  Grahame's  side. 

"Euston!"  the  latter  cried  through  the  trap-door. 
"Double  fare,  cabby.  We  must  catch  the  Scotch- 
man." 

Lucille  came  out  a  few  moments  later,  and  looked 
up  and  down  the  street  as  her  brougham  drove  smartly 
up.  The  hansom  was  fast  disappearing  in  the  dis- 
tance. She  looked  after  it  and  sighed. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

i 

LUCILLE  gave  a  little  start  of  amazement 
as  she  realised  that  she  was  not  alone  in 
the  brougham.  She  reached  out  for  the 
check-cord,  but  a  strong  hand  held  hers. 

"My  dear  Lucille,"  a  familiar  voice  exclaimed, 
"why  this  alarm?  Is  it  your  nerves  or  your  eyesight 
vhich  is  failing  you?" 

Her  hand  dropped.     She  turned  towards  him. 

"It  is  you,  then,  Prince!"  she  said.  "But  why  are 
you  here?  I  do  not  understand." 

The  Prince  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"It  is  so  simple,"  he  said.  "We  are  all  very 
anxious  indeed  to  hear  the  result  of  your  interview 
with  Brott — and  apart  from  that,  I  personally  have 
too  few  opportunities  to  act  as  your  escort  to  let  a 
chance  go  by.  I  trust  that  my  presence  is  not  dis- 
pleasing to  you?" 

She  laughed  a  little  uneasily. 

"It  is  at  any  rate  unnecessary,"  she  answered. 
"But  since  you  are  here  I  may  as  well  make  my  con- 
fession. I  have  failed." 

"It  is  incredible,"  the  Prince  murmured. 

"As  you  will — but  it  is  true,"  she  answered.  "I 
have  done  my  very  best,  or  rather  my  worst,  and  the 
result  has  been  failure.  Mr.  Brott  has  a  great  friend 
— a  man  named  Grahame,  whose  influence  prevailed 
against  mine.  He  has  gone  to  Scotland." 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      195 

"That  is  serious  news,"  the  Prince  said  quietly. 

Lucille  leaned  back  amongst  the  cushions. 

"After  all,"  she  declared,  "we  are  all  out  of  place 
in  this  country.  There  is  no  scope  whatever  for  such 
schemes  and  intrigues  as  you  and  all  the  rest  of  them 
delight  in.  In  France  and  Russia,  even  in  Austria, 
it  is  different.  The  working  of  all  great  organisa- 
tion there  is  underground — it  is  easy  enough  to  meet 
plot  by  counterplot,  to  suborn,  to  deceive,  to  under- 
mine. But  here  all  the  great  games  of  life  seem  to  be 
played  with  the  cards  upon  the  table.  We  are  hope- 
lessly out  of  place.  I  cannot  think,  Prince,  what  ill 
chance  led  you  to  ever  contemplate  making  your  head- 
quarters in  London." 

The  Prince  stroked  his  long  moustache. 

"That  is  all  very  well,  Lucille,"  he  said,  "but  you 
must  remember  that  in  England  we  have  very  large 
subscriptions  to  the  Order.  These  people  will  not  go 
on  paying  for  nothing.  There  was  a  meeting  of  the 
London  branch  a  few  months  ago,  and  it  was  decided 
that  unless  some  practical  work  was  done  in  this 
country  all  English  subscriptions  should  cease.  We 
had  no  alternative  but  to  come  over  and  attempt 
something.  Brott  is  of  course  the  bete  noire  of 
our  friends  here.  He  is  distinctly  the  man  to  be 
struck  at." 

"And  what  evil  stroke  of  fortune,"  Lucille  asked, 
"induced  you  to  send  for  me?" 

"That  is  a  very  cruel  speech,  dear  lady,"  the  Prince 
murmured. 

"I  hope,"  Lucille  said,  "that  you  have  never  for  a 


196      THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

moment  imagined  that  I  find  any  pleasure  in  what  I 
am  called  upon  to  do." 

"Why  not?  It  must  be  interesting.  You  can  have 
had  no  sympathy  with  Brott — a  hopeless  plebeian, 
a  very  paragon  of  Anglo-Saxon  stupidity?" 

Lucille  laughed  scornfully. 

"Reginald  Brott  is  a  man,  at  any  rate,  and  an  hon- 
est one,"  she  answered.  "But  I  am  too  selfish  to  think 
much  of  him.  It  is  myself  whom  I  pity.  I  have 
a  home,  Prince,  and  a  husband.  I  want  them 
both." 

"You  amaze  me,"  the  Prince  said  slowly.  "Lucille, 
indeed,  you  amaze  me.  You  have  been  buried  alive 
for  three  years.  Positively  we  believed  that  our  sum- 
mons would  sound  to  you  like  a  message  from 
Heaven." 

Lucille  was  silent  for  a  moment.  She  rubbed  the 
mist  from  the  carriage  window  and  looked  out  into 
the  streets. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "I  hope  that  you  realise  now  how 
completely  you  have  misunderstood  me.  I  was  per- 
fectly happy  in  America.  I  have  been  perfectly  mis- 
erable here.  I  suppose  that  I  have  grown  too  old  for 
intrigues  and  adventures." 

"Too  old,  Lucille,"  the  Prince  murmured,  leaning 
a  little  towards  her.  "Lucille,  you  are  the  most  beau- 
tiful woman  in  London.  Many  others  may  have  told 
you  so,  but  there  is  no  one,  Lucille,  who  is  so  devotedly, 
so  hopelessly  your  slave  as  I." 

She  drew  her  hand  away,  and  sat  back  in  her  cor- 
ner. The  man's  hot  breath  fell  upon  her  cheek,  his 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      197 

eyes  seemed  almost  phosphorescent  in  the  darkness, 
Lucille  could  scarcely  keep  the  biting  words  from  her 
tongue. 

"You  do  not  answer  me,  Lucille.  You  do  not  speak 
even  a  single  kind  word  to  me.  Come !  Surely  we  are 
old  friends.  We  should  understand  one  another.  It 
is  not  a  great  deal  that  I  ask  from  your  kindness — 
not  a  great  deal  to  you,  but  it  is  all  the  difference 
between  happiness  and  misery  for  me." 

"This  is  a  very  worn-out  game,  Prince,"  Lucille 
said  coldly.  "You  have  been  making  love  to  women 
in  very  much  the  same  manner  for  twenty  years,  and 
I — well,  to  be  frank,  I  am  utterly  weary  of  being 
made  love  to  like  a  doll.  Laugh  at  me  as  you  will,  my 
husband  is  the  only  man  who  interests  me  in  the  slight- 
est. My  failure  to-day  is  almost  welcome  to  me.  It 
has  at  least  brought  my  work  here  to  a  close.  Come, 
Prince,  if  you  want  to  earn  my  eternal  gratitude,  tell 
me  now  that  I  am  a  free  woman." 

"You  give  me  credit,"  the  Prince  said  slowly,  "for 
great  generosity.  If  I  let  you  go  it  seems  to  me  that 
I  shall  lose  you  altogether.  You  will  go  to  your  hus- 
band. He  will  take  you  away !" 

"Why  not?"  Lucille  asked.  "I  want  to  go.  I  am 
tired  of  London.  You  cannot  lose  what  you  never 
possessed — what  you  never  had  the  slightest  chance 
of  possessing." 

The  Prince  laughed  softly — not  a  pleasant  laugh, 
not  even  a  mirthful  one. 

"Dear  lady,"  he  said,  "you  speak  not  wisely.  For 
I  am  very  much  in  earnest  when  I  say  that  I  love 


198      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

you,  and  until  you  are  kinder  to  me  I  shall  not  let 
you  go." 

"That  is  rather  a  dangerous  threat,  is  it  not?" 
Lucille  asked.  "You  dare  to  tell  me  openly  that  you 
will  abuse  your  position,  that  you  will  keep  me  bound 
a  servant  to  the  cause,  because  of  this  foolish  fancy 
of  yours  ?" 

The  Prince  smiled  at  her  through  the  gloom — a 
white,  set  smile. 

"It  is  no  foolish  fancy,  Lucille.  You  will  find  that 
out  before  long.  You  have  been  cold  to  me  all  your 
life.  Yet  you  would  find  me  a  better  friend  than 
enemy." 

"If  I  am  to  choose,"  she  said  steadily,  "I  shall 
choose  the  latter." 

"As  you  will,"  he  answered.  "In  time  you  will 
change  your  mind." 

The  carriage  had  stopped.  The  Prince  alighted 
and  held  out  his  hand.  Lucille  half  rose,  and  then 
with  her  foot  upon  the  step  she  paused  and  looked 
around. 

"Where  are  we?"  she  exclaimed.  "This  is  not  Dor- 
set House." 

"No,  we  are  in  Grosvenor  Square,"  the  Prince  an- 
swered. "I  forgot  to  tell  you  that"  we  have  a  meeting 
arranged  for  here  this  evening.  Permit  me."  But 
Lucille  resumed  her  seat  in  the  carriage. 

"It  is  your  house,  is  it  not  ?"  she  asked. 

"Yes.     My  house  assuredly." 

"Very  well,"  Lucille  said.     "I  will  come  in  when 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      199 

the  Duchess  of  Dorset  shows  herself  at  the  window  or 
the  front  door — or  Felix,  or  even  De  Brouillac." 

The  Prince  still  held  open  the  carriage  door. 

"They  will  all  be  here,"  he  assured  her.  "We  are 
a  few  minutes  early." 

"Then  I  will  drive  round  to  Dorset  House  and 
fetch  the  Duchess.  It  is  only  a  few  yards." 

The  Prince  hesitated.  His  cheeks  were  very  white, 
and  something  like  a  scowl  was  blackening  his  heavy, 
insipid  face. 

"Lucille,"  he  said,  "you  are  very  foolish.  It  is 
not  much  I  ask  of  you,  but  that  little  I  will  have 
or  I  pledge  my  word  to  it  that  things  shall  go  ill  with 
you  and  your  husband.  There  is  plain  speech  for 
you.  Do  not  be  absurd.  Come  within,  and  let  us 
talk.  What  do  you  fear?  The  house  is  full  of  ser- 
vants, and  the  carriage  can  wait  for  you  here." 

Lucille  smiled  at  him — a  maddening  smile. 

"I  am  not  a  child,"  she  said,  "and  such  conversa- 
tions as  I  am  forced  to  hold  with  you  will  not  be  under 
your  own  roof.  Be  so  good  as  to  tell  the  coachman 
to  drive  to  Dorset  House." 

The  Prince  turned  on  his  heel  with  a  furious  oath. 

"He  can  drive  you  to  Hell,"  he  answered  thickly. 

Lucille  found  the  Duchess  and  Lady  Carey  together 
at  Dorset  House.  She  looked  from  one  to  the  other. 

"I  thought  that  there  was  a  meeting  to-night,"  she 
remarked. 

The  Duchess  shook  her  head. 

"Not  to-night,"  she  answered.     "It  would  not  be 


200      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

possible.  General  Dolinski  is  dining  at  Marlborough 
House,  and  De  Brouillac  is  in  Paris.  Now  tell  us  all 
about  Mr.  Brott." 

"He  has  gone  to  Scotland,"  Lucille  answered.  "I 
have  failed." 

Lady  Carey  looked  up  from  the  depths  of  the  chair 
in  which  she  was  lounging. 

"And  the  Prince?"  She  asked.  "He  went  to  meet 
you!" 

"He  also  failed,"  Lucille  answered. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

MR.  SABIN  drew  a  little  breath,  partly  of 
satisfaction  because  he  had  discovered 
the  place  he  sought,  and  partly  of  dis- 
gust at  the  neighbourhood  in  which  he 
found  himself.  Nevertheless,  he  descended  three  steps 
from  the  court  into  which  he  had  been  directed,  and 
pushed  open  the  swing  door,  behind  which  Emil  Sachs 
announced  his  desire  to  supply  the  world  with  dinners 
at  eightpence  and  vin  ordinaire  at  fourpence  the  small 
bottle. 

A  stout  black-eyed  woman  looked  up  at  his  en- 
trance from  behind  the  counter.  The  place  was 
«mpty. 

"What  does  monsieur  require?"  she  asked,  peering 
forward  through  the  gloom  with  some  suspicion.  For 
the  eightpenny  dinners  were  the  scorn  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood, and  strangers  were  rare  in  the  wine  shop  of 
Emil  Sachs, 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled. 

"One  of  your  excellent  omelettes,  my  good  An- 
nette," he  answered,  "if  your  hand  has  not  lost  its  cun- 
ning!" 

She  gave  a  little  cry. 

"It  is  monsieur!"  she  exclaimed.  "After  all  these 
years  it  is  monsieur!  Ah,  you  will  pardon  that  I 
did  not  recognise  you.  This  place  is  a  cellar.  Mon- 


202      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

sieur  has  not  changed.  In  the  daylight  one  would 
know  him  anywhere." 

The  woman  talked  fast,  but  even  in  that  dim  light 
Mr.  Sabin  knew  quite  well  that  she  was  shaking  with 
fear.  He  could  see  the  corners  of  her  mouth  twitch. 
Her  black  eyes  rolled  incessantly,  but  refused  to  meet 
his.  Mr.  Sabin  frowned. 

"You  are  not  glad  to  see  me,  Annette !" 

She  leaned  over  the  counter. 

"For  monsieur's  own  sake,"  she  whispered,  "go!" 

Mr.  Sabin  stood  quite  still  for  a  short  space 
of  time. 

"Can  I  rest  in  there  for  a  few  minutes?"  he  asked, 
pointing  to  the  door  which  led  into  the  room  beyond. 

The  woman  hesitated.  She  looked  up  at  the  clock 
and  down  again. 

"Emil  will  return,"  she  said,  "at  three.  Monsieur 
were  best  out  of  the  neighbourhood  before  then.  For 
ten  minutes  it  might  be  safe." 

Mr.  Sabin  passed  forward.  .  The  woman  lifted  the 
flap  of  the  counter  and  followed  him.  Within  was 
a  smaller  room,  far  cleaner  and  better  appointed  than 
the  general  appearance  of  the  place  promised.  Mr. 
Sabin  seated  himself  at  one  of  the  small  tables.  The 
linen  cloth,  he  noticed,  was  spotless,  the  cutlery  and 
appointments  polished  and  clean. 

"This,  I  presume,"  he  remarked,  "is  not  where  you 
serve  the  eightpenny  table  d'hote?" 

The  woman  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"But  it  would  not  be  possible,"  she  answered.  "We 
have  no  customers  for  that.  If  one  arrives  we  put 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON      203 

together  a  few  scraps.  But  one  must  make  a  pre- 
tence. Monsieur  understands?" 

Mr.  Sabin  nodded. 

"I  will  take,"  he  said,  "a  small  glass  of  fin  cham- 
pagne." 

She  vanished,  and  reappeared  almost  immediately 
with  the  brandy  in  a  quaintly  cut  liqueur  glass.  A 
glance  at  the  clock  as  she  passed  seemed  to  have  in- 
creased her  anxiety. 

"If  monsieur  will  drink  his  liqueur  and  depart," 
she  prayed.  "Indeed,  it  will  be  for  the  best." 

Mr.  Sabin  set  down  his  glass.  His  steadfast  gaze 
seemed  to  reduce  Annette  into  a  state  of  nervous 
panic. 

"Annette,"  he  said,  "they  have  placed  me  upon  the 
list." 

"It — is  true,  monsieur,"  she  answered.  "Why  do 
you  come  here?" 

"I  wanted  to  know  first  for  certain  that  they  had 
ventured  so  far,"  Mr.  Sabin  said.  "I  believe  that  I 
am  only  the  second  person  in  this  country  who  has 
been  so  much  honoured." 

The  woman  drew  nearer  to  him. 

"Monsieur,"  she  said,  "your  only  danger  is  to  ven- 
ture into  such  parts  as  these.  London  is  so  safe,  and 
the  law  is  merciless.  They  only  watch.  They  will 
attempt  nothing.  Do  not  leave  England.  There  is 
here  no  machinery  of  criminals.  Besides,  the  life  of 
monsieur  is  insured." 

"Insured?"  Mr.  Sabin  remarked  quietly.  "That 
is  good  news.  And  who  pays  the  premium?" 


204      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"A  great  lady,  monsieur !  I  know  no  more.  Mon- 
sieur must  go  indeed.  He  has  found  his  way  into  the 
only  place  in  London  where  he  is  not  safe." 

Mr.  Sabin  rose. 

"You  are  expecting,  perhaps,"  he  said,  "one  of  my 
friends  from  the " 

She  interrupted  him. 

"It  is  true,"  she  declared.  He  may  be  here  at  any 
instant.  The  time  is  already  up.  Oh,  monsieur,  in- 
deed, indeed  it  would  not  do  for  him  to  find  you." 

Mr.  Sabin  moved  towards  the  door. 

"You  are  perhaps  right,"  he  said  regretfully,  "al- 
though I  should  much  like  to  hear  about  this  little 
matter  of  life  insurance  while  I  am  here." 

"Indeed,  monsieur,"  Annette  declared,  "I  know 
nothing.  There  is  nothing  which  I  can  tell  monsieur." 

Mr.  Sabin  suddenly  leaned  forward.  His  gaze  was 
compelling.  His  tone  was  low  but  terrible. 

"Annette,"  he  said,  "obey  me.     Send  Emil  here." 

The  woman  trembled,  but  she  did  not  move.  Mr. 
Sabin  lifted  his  forefinger  and  pointed  slowly  to  the 
door.  The  woman's  lips  parted,  but  she  seemed  to 
have  lost  the  power  of  speech. 

"Send  Emil  here !"  Mr.  Sabin  repeated  slowly. 

Annette  turned  and  left  the  room,  groping  her  way 
to  the  door  as  though  her  eyesight  had  become  un- 
certain. Mr.  Sabin  lit  a  cigarette  and  looked  for  a 
moment  carefully  into  the  small  liqueur  glass  out  of 
which  he  had  drunk. 

"That  was  unwise,"  he  said  softly  to  himself. 
"Just  such  a  blunder  might  have  cost  me  everything." 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      205 

He  held  it  up  to  the  light  and  satisfied  himself  that 
no  dregs  remained.  Then  he  took  from  his  pocket 
a  tiny  little  revolver,  and  placing  it  on  the  table  before 
him,  covered  it  with  his  handkerchief.  Almost  im- 
mediately a  door  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room  opened 
and  closed.  A  man  in  dark  clothes,  small,  unnaturally 
pale,  with  deep-set  eyes  and  nervous,  twitching  mouth, 
stood  before  him.  Mr.  Sabin  smiled  a  welcome  at 
him. 

"Good-morning,  Emil  Sachs,"  he  said.  "I  am  glad 
that  you  have  shown  discretion.  Stand  there  in  the 
light,  please,  and  fold  your  arms.  Thanks.  Do  not 
think  that  I  am  afraid  of  you,  but  I  like  to  talk  com- 
fortably." 

"I  am  at  monsieur's  service,"  the  man  said  in  a 
low  tone. 

"Exactly.  Now,  Emil,  before  starting  to  visit  you 
I  left  a  little  note  behind  addressed  to  the  chief  of  the 
police  here — no,  you  need  not  start — to  be  sent  to  him 
only  if  my  return  were  unduly  delayed.  You  can 
guess  what  that  note  contained.  It  is  not  necessary 
for  us  to  revert  to — unpleasant  subjects." 

The  man  moistened  his  dry  lips. 

"It  is  not  necessary,"  he  repeated.  "Monsieur  is 
as  safe  here — from  me — as  at  his  own  hotel." 

"Excellent!"  Mr.  Sabin  said.  "Now  listen,  Emil. 
It  has  pleased  me  chiefly,  as  you  know,  for  the  sake 
of  your  wife,  the  good  Annette,  to  be  very  merciful  to 
you  as  regards  the  past.  But  I  do  not  propose  to 
allow  you  to  run  a  poison  bureau  for  the  advantage 
of  the  Prince  of  Saxe  Leinitzer  and  his  friends — more 


206      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

especially,  perhaps,  as  I  am  at  present  upon  his  list 
of  superfluous  persons." 

The  man  trembled. 

"Monsieur,"  he  said,  "the  Prince  knows  as  much  as 
you  know,  and  he  has  not  the  mercy  that  one  shows 
to  a  dog." 

"You  will  find,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "that  if  you  do  not 
obey  me,  I  myself  can  develop  a  similar  disposition. 
Now  answer  me  this!  You  have  within  the  last  few 
days  supplied  several  people  with  that  marvellous 
powder  for  the  preparation  of  which  you  are  so  justly 
famed." 

"Several — no,  monsieur!    Two  only." 

"Their  names?" 

The  man  trembled. 

"If  they  should  know !" 

"They  will  not,  Emil.     I  will  see  to  that." 

"The  first  I  supplied  to  the  order  of  the  Prince." 

"Good!    And  the  second?" 

"To  a  lady  whose  name  I  do  not  know." 

Mr.  Sabin  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"Is  not  that,"  he  remarked,  "a  little  irregular?" 

"The  lady  wrote  her  request  before  me  in  the  yel- 
low crayon.  It  was  sufficient." 

"And  you  do  not  know  her  name,  Emil?" 

"No,  monsieur.  She  was  dark  and  tall,  and  closely 
v«  iled.  She  was  here  but  a  few  minutes  since." 

"Dark  and  tall!"  Mr.  Sabin  repeated  to  himself 
thoughtfully.  "Emil,  you  are  telling  me  the  truth?" 

"I  do  not  dare  to  tell  you  anything  else,  monsieur," 
the  ^nan  answered. 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON      207 

Mr.  Sabin  did  not  continue  his  interrogations  for 
a  few  moments.  Suddenly  he  looked  up. 

"Has  that  lady  left  the  place  yet,  Emil?" 

"No,  monsieur !" 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled. 

"Plave  you  a  back  exit?"  he  asked. 

"None  that  the  lady  would  know  of,"  Emil  an- 
swered. "She  must  pass  along  the  passage  which  bor- 
ders this  apartment,  and  enter  the  bar  by  a  door  from 
behind.  If  monsieur  desires  it,  it  is  impossible  for 
her  to  leave  unobserved." 

"That  is  excellent,  Emil,"  Mr.  Sabin  said.  "Now 
there  is  one  more  question — quite  a  harmless  one. 
Annette  spoke  of  my  life  being  in  some  way  insured." 

"It  is  true,  monsieur,"  Emil  admitted.  "A  lady 
who  also  possessed  the  yellow  crayon  came  here  the 
day  that — that  monsieur  incurred  the  displeasure  of 
— of  his  friends.  She  tried  to  bribe  me  to  blow  up  my 
laboratory  and  leave  the  country,  or  that  I  should 
substitute  a  harmless  powder  for  any  required  by — 
the  Prince.  I  was  obliged  to  refuse." 

"And  then?" 

"Then  she  promised  me  a  large  sum  if  you  were 
alive  in  six  months,  and  made  me  at  once  a  pay- 
ment. 

"Dear  me,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "this  is  quite  extraor- 
dinary." 

"I  can  tell  monsieur  the  lady's  name,"  Emil  con- 
tinued, "for  she  raised  her  veil,  and  everywhere  the 
illustrated  papers  have  been  full  of  her  picture.  It 
was  the  lady  who  was  besieged  in  a  little  town  of 


South  Africa,  and  who  carried  despatches  for  the  gen- 
eral, disguised  as  a  man." 

"Lady  Carey!"  Mr.  Sabin  remarked  quietly. 

"That  was  the  lady's  name,"  Emil  agreed. 

Mr.  Sabin  was  thoughtful  for  a  few  moments. 
Then  he  looked  up. 

"Emil  Sachs,"  he  said  sternly,  "you  have  given  out 
at  least  one  portion  of  your  abominable  concoction 
which  is  meant  to  end  my  days.  Whether  I  shall 
escape  it  or  not  remains  to  be  seen.  I  am  forced  at 
the  best  to  discharge  my  servant,  and  to  live  the  life 
of  a  hunted  man.  Now  you  have  done  enough  mis- 
chief in  the  world.  To-morrow  morning  a  messenger 
will  place  in  your  hands  two  hundred  pounds.  A 
larger  sum  will  await  you  at  Baring's  Bank  in  New 
York.  You  will  go  there  and  buy  a  small  restaurant 
in  the  business  quarter.  This  is  your  last  chance, 
Emil.  I  give  it  to  you  for  the  sake  of  Annette." 

"And  I  accept  it,  monsieur,  with  gratitude." 

"For  the  present " 

Mr.  Sabin  stopped  short.  His  quick  ears  had 
caught  the  swish  of  a  woman's  gown  passing  along 
the  passage  outside.  Emil  too  had  heard  it. 

"It  is  the  dark  lady,"  he  whispered,  "who  purchased 
from  me  the  other  powder.  See,  I  open  gently  this 
door.  Monsieur  must  both  see  and  hear." 

The  door  at  the  end  of  the  passage  was  opened. 
A  woman  stepped  out  into  the  little  bar  and  made  her 
way  towards  the  door.  Here  she  was  met  by  a  man 
entering.  Mr.  Sabin  held  up  his  forefinger  to  stop 
the  terrified  exclamation  which  trembled  on  Emil's 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      209 

lips.  The  woman  was  Lucille,  the  man  the  Prince.  It 
was  Lucille  who  was  speaking. 

"You  have  followed  me,  Prince.     It  is  intolerable." 

"Dear  Lucille,  it  is  for  your  own  sake.  These  are 
not  fit  parts  for  you  to  visit  alone." 

"It  is  my  own  business,"  she  answered  coldly. 

The  Prince  appeared  to  be  in  a  complaisant 
mood. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "the  affair  is  not  worth  a  quarrel. 
I  ask  you  no  questions.  Only  since  we  are  here  I  pro- 
pose that  we  test  the  cooking  of  the  good  Annette. 
We  will  lunch  together." 

"What,  here?"  she  answered.     "Absurd." 

"By  no  means,"  he  answered.  "As  you  doubtless 
know,  the  exterior  of  the  place  is  entirely  misleading. 
These  people  are — old  servants  of  mine.  I  can  an- 
swer for  the  luncheon." 

"You  can  also  eat  it,"  came  the  prompt  reply.  "I 
am  returning  to  the  carriage." 

"But " 

Mr.  Sabin  emerged  through  the  swing  door. 

"Your  discretion,  my  dear  Lucille,"  he  said,  smil- 
ing, "is  excellent.  The  place  is  indeed  better  than  it 
seems,  and  Annette's  cookery  may  be  all  that  the 
Prince  claims.  Yet  I  think  I  know  better  places  for 
a  luncheon  part}7,  and  the  ventilation  is  not  of  the 
best.  May  I  suggest  that  you  come  with  me  instead 
to  the  Milan?" 

"Victor!    You  here?" 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled  as  he  admitted  the  obvious  fact. 
The  Prince's  face  was  as  black  as  night. 


"Believe  me,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  turning  to  the 
Prince,  "I  sympathise  entirely  with  your  feelings  at 
the  present  moment.  I  myself  have  suffered  in  pre- 
cisely the  same  manner.  The  fact  is,  intrigue  in  this 
country  is  almost  an  impossibility.  At  Paris,  Vienna, 
Pesth,  how  different !  You  raise  your  little  finger, 
and  the  deed  is  done.  Superfluous  people — like  my- 
self— are  removed  like  the  hairs  from  your  chin.  But 
here  intrigue  seems  indeed  to  exist  only  within  the 
pages  of  a  shilling  novel,  or  in  a  comic  opera.  The 
gentleman  with  a  helmet  there,  who  regards  us  so  be- 
nignly, will  presently  earn  a  shilling  by  calling  me  a 
hansom.  Yet  in  effect  he  does  me  a  far  greater  service. 
He  stands  for  a  multitude  of  cold  Anglo-Saxon  laws, 
adamant,  incorruptible,  inflexible — as  certain  as  the 
laws  of  Nature  herself.  I  am  quite  aware  that  by  this 
time  I  ought  to  be  lying  in  a  dark  celler  with  a  gag  in 
my  mouth,  or  perhaps  in  the  river  with  a  dagger  in 
my  chest.  But  here  in  England,  no !" 

The  Prince  smiled — to  all  appearance  a  very 
genial  smile. 

"You  are  right,  my  dear  friend,"  he  said,  "yet 
what  you  say  possesses,  shall  we  call  it,  a  somewhat 
antediluvian  flavour.  Intrigue  is  no  longer  a  clumsy 
game  of  knife  and  string  and  bowl.  It  becomes  to- 
day a  game  of  finesse.  I  can  assure  you  that  I  have 
no  desire  to  give  a  stage  whistle  and  have  you  throttled 
at  my  feet.  On  the  contrary,  I  beg  you  to  use  my 
carriage,  which  you  will  find  in  the  street.  You  will 
lunch  at  the  Milan  with  Lucille,  and  I  shall  retire  dis- 
comfited to  eat  alone  at  my  club.  But  the  game  is  a 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

long  one,  my  dear  friend.  The  new  methods  take 
time." 

"This  conversation,"  Mr.  Sabin  said  to  Lucille,  "is 
interesting,  but  it  is  a  little  ungallant.  I  think  that 
we  will  resume  it  at  some  future  occasion.  Shall  we 
accept  the  Prince's  offer,  or  shall  we  be  truly  demo- 
cratic and  take  a  hansom." 

Lucille  passed  her  arm  through  his  and  laughed. 

"You  are  robbing  the  Prince  of  me,"  she  declared. 
"Let  us  leave  him  his  carriage." 

She  nodded  her  farewells  to  Saxe  Leinitzer,  who 
took  leave  of  them  with  a  low  bow.  As  they  waited 
at  the  corner  for  a  hansom  Mr.  Sabin  glanced  back. 
The  Prince  had  disappeared  through  the  swing 
doors. 

"I  want  you  to  promise  me  one  thing,"  Lucille  said 
earnestly. 

"It  is  promised,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered. 

"You  will  not  ask  me  the  reason  of  my  visit  to  this 
place?" 

"I  have  no  curiosity,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered. 
"Come!" 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

MR.  SABIN,  contrary  to  his  usual  custom, 
engaged  a  private  room  at  the  Milan. 
Lucille  was  in  the  highest  spirits. 

"If  only  this  were  a  game  instead  of 
reality!"  she  said,  flashing  a  brilliant  smile  at  him 
across  the  table,  "I  should  find  it  most  fascinating. 
You  seem  to  come  to  me  alwaj-s  when  I  want  you  most. 
And  do  you  know,  it  is  perfectly  charming  to  be 
carried  off  by  you  in  this  manner !" 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled  at  her,  and  there  was  a  look  in 
his  eyes  which  shone  there  for  no  other  woman. 

"It  is  in  effect,"  he  said,  "keeping  me  young. 
Events  seem  to  have  enclosed  us  in  a  curious  little 
cobweb.  All  the  time  we  are  struggling  between  the 
rankest  primitivism  and  the  most  delicate  intrigue. 
To-day  is  the  triumph  of  primitivism." 

"Meaning  that  you,  the  mediaeval  knight,  have 
carried  me  off,  the  distressed  maiden,  on  your  shoul- 
der." 

"Having  confounded  my  enemy,"  he  continued, 
smiling,  "by  an  embarrassing  situation,  a  little  argu- 
ment, and  the  distant  view  of  a  policeman's  helmet." 

"This,"  she  remarked,  with  a  little  satisfied  sigh 
as  she  selected  an  ortolan,  "is  a  very  satisfactory 
place  to  be  carried  off  to.  And  you,"  she  added,  lean- 
ing across  the  table  and  touching  his  fingers  for  a 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      213 

moment  tenderly,  "are  a  very  delightful  knight-er- 
rant." 

He  raised  the  fingers  to  his  lips — the  waiter  had 
left  the  room.  She  blushed,  but  yielded  her  hand 
readily  enough. 

"Victor,"  she  murmured,  "you  would  spoil  the  most 
faithless  woman  on  earth  for  all  her  lovers.  You 
make  me  very  impatient." 

"Impatience,  then,"  he  declared,  "must  be  the  most 
infectious  of  fevers.  For  I  too  am  a  terrible  sufferer." 

"If  only  the  Prince,"  she  said,  "would  be  reason- 
able." 

"I  am  afraid,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered,  "that  from 
him  we  have  not  much  to  hope  for." 

"Yet,"  she  continued,  "I  have  fulfilled  all  the  con- 
ditions. Reginald  Brott  remains  the  enemy  of  our 
cause  and  Order.  Yet  some  say  that  his  influence 
upon  the  people  is  lessened.  In  any  case,  my  work  is 
over.  He  began  to  mistrust  me  long  ago.  To-day  I 
believe  that  mistrust  is  the  only  feeling  he  has  in  con- 
nection with  me.  I  shall  demand  my  release." 

"I  am  afraid,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "that  Saxe  Lei- 
nitzer  has  other  reasons  for  keeping  you  at  Dorset 
House." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"He  has  been  very  persistent  even  before  I  left 
Vienna.  But  he  must  know  that  it  is  hopeless.  I 
have  never  encouraged  him." 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  Mr.  Sabin  said.  "It  is  the  incor- 
rigible vanity  of  the  man  which  will  not  be  denied. 
He  has  been  taught  to  believe  himself  irresistible.  I 


have  never  doubted  you  for  a  single  moment,  Lucille. 
I  could  not.  But  you  have  been  the  slave  of  these 
people  long  enough.  As  you  say,  your  task  is  over. 
Its  failure  was  always  certain.  Brott  believes  in  his 
destiny,  and  it  will  be  no  slight  thing  which  will  keep 
him  from  following  it.  They  must  give  you  back  to 
me." 

"We  will  go  back  to  America,"  she  said.  "I  have 
never  been  so  happy  as  af,  Lenox." 

"Nor  I,"  Mr.  Sabin  said  softly. 

"Besides,"  she  continued,  "the  times  have  changed 
since  I  joined  the  Society.  In  Hungary  you  know 
how  things  were.  The  Socialists  were  carrying  all 
before  them,  a  united  solid  body.  The  aristocracy 
were  forced  to  enter  into  some  sort  of  combination 
against  them.  We  saved  Austria,  I  am  not  sure  that 
we  did  not  save  Russia.  But  England  is  different. 
The  aristocracy  here  are  a  strong  resident  class. 
They  have  their  House  of  Lords,  they  own  the  land, 
and  will  own  it  for  many  years  to  come,  their  position 
is  unassailable.  It  is  the  worst  country  in  Europe  for 
us  to  work  in.  The  very  climate  and  the  dispositions 
of  the  people  are  inimical  to  intrigue.  It  is  Muriel 
Carey  who  brought  the  Society  here.  It  was  a  mis- 
take. The  country  is  in  no  need  of  it.  There  is  no 
scope  for  it." 

"If  only  one  could  get  beyond  Saxe  Leinitzer," 
Mr.  Sabin  said. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Behind  him,"  she  said,  "there  is  only  the  one  to 
whom  all  reference  is  forbidden.  And  there  is  no  man 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON      215 

in  the  world  who  would  be  less  likely  to  listen  to  an 
appeal  from  you — or  from  me." 

"After  all,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "though  Saxe  Lei- 
nitzer  is  our  enemy,  I  am  not  sure  that  he  can  do  us 
any  harm.  If  he  declines  to  release  you — well,  when 
the  twelve  months  are  up  you  are  free  whether  he 
wishes  it  or  not.  He  has  put  me  outside  the  pale. 
But  this  is  not,  or  never  was,  a  vindictive  Society. 
They  do  not  deal  in  assassinations.  In  this  country 
at  least  anything  of  the  sort  is  rarely  attempted.  If 
I  were  a  young  man  with  my  life  to  live  in  the  capitals 
of  Europe  I  should  be  more  or  less  a  social  out- 
cast, I  suppose.  But  I  am  proof  against  that  sort  of 
thing." 

Lucille  looked  a  little  doubtful. 

"The  Prince,"  she  said,  "is  an  intriguer  of  the  old 
school.  I  know  that  in  Vienna  he  has  more  than  once 
made  use  of  more  violent  means  than  he  would  dare 
to  do  here.  And  there  is  an  underneath  machinery 
very  seldom  used,  I  believe,  and  of  which  none  of 
us  who  are  ordinary  members  know  anything  at  all, 
which  gives  him  terrible  powers." 

Mr.  Sabin  nodded  grimly. 

"It  was  worked  against  me  in  America,"  he  said, 
"but  I  got  the  best  of  it.  Here  in  England  I  do  not 
believe  that  he  would  dare  to  use  it.  If  so,  I  think 
that  before  now  it  would  have  been  aimed  at  Brott. 
I  have  just  read  his  Glasgow  speech.  If  he  becomes 
Premier  it  will  lead  to  something  like  a  revolution." 

She  sighed. 

"Brott  is  a  clever  man,  and  a  strong  man,"  she 


216      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

said.  "I  am  sorry  for  him,  but  I  do  not  believe  that 
he  will  ever  become  Prime  Minister  of  England." 

Mr.  Sabin  sipped  his  wine  thoughtfully. 

"I  believe,"  he  said,  "that  intrigue  is  the  resource 
of  those  who  have  lived  their  lives  so  quickly  that 
they  have  found  weariness.  For  these  things  to-day 
interest  me  very  little.  I  am  only  anxious  to  have  you 
back  again,  Lucille,  to  find  ourselves  on  our  way  to 
our  old  home." 

She  laughed  softly. 

"And  I  used  to  think,"  she  said,  "that  after  all 
I  could  only  keep  you  a  little  time — that  presently 
the  voices  from  the  outside  world  would  come  whisper- 
ing in  your  ears,  and  you  would  steal  back  again  to 
where  the  wheels  of  life  were  turning." 

"A  man,"  he  answered,  "is  not  easily  whispered 
out  of  Paradise." 

She  laughed  at  him. 

"Ah,  it  is  so  easy,"  she  said,  "to  know  that  your 
youth  was  spent  at  a  court." 

"There  is  only  one  court,"  he  answered,  "where 
men  learn  to  speak  the  truth." 

She  leaned  back  in  her  chair. 

"Oh,  you  are  incorrigible,"  she  said  softly.  "The 
one  role  in  life  in  which  I  fancied  you  ill  at  ease  you 
seem  to  fill  to  perfection." 

"And  that?" 

"You  are  an  adorable  husband!" 

"I  should  like,"  he  said,  "a  better  opportunity  to 
prove  it!" 

"Let  us  hope,"  she  murmured,  "that  our  separa- 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

tion  is  nearly  over.  I  shall  appeal  to  the  Prince  to- 
night. My  remaining  at  Dorset  House  is  no  longer 
necessary." 

"I  shall  come,"  he  said,  "and  demand  you  in  per- 
son." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"No!  They  would  not  let  you  in,  and  it  would 
make  it  more  difficult.  Be  patient  a  little  longer." 

He  came  and  sat  by  her  side.  She  leaned  over  to 
meet  his  embrace. 

"You  make  patience,"  he  murmured,  "a  torture!" 
*  #  #  *•  # 

Mr.  Sabin  walked  home  to  his  rooms  late  in  the 
afternoon,  well  content  on  the  whole  with  his  day. 
He  was  in  no  manner  prepared  for  the  shock  which 
greeted  him  on  entering  his  sitting-room.  Duson 
was  leaning  back  in  his  most  comfortable  easy-chair. 

"Duson!"  Mr.  Sabin  said  sharply.  "What  does 
this  mean?" 

There  was  no  answer.  Mr.  Sabin  moved  quickly 
forward,  and  then  stopped  short.  He  had  seen  dead 
men,  and  he  knew  the  signs.  Duson  was  stone  dead. 

Mr.  Sabin's  nerve  answered  to  this  demand  upon 
it.  He  checked  his  first  impulse  to  ring  the  bell,  and 
looked  carefully  on  the  table  for  some  note  or  mes- 
sage from  the  dead  man.  He  found  it  almost  at  once 
— a  large  envelope  in  Duson's  handwriting.  Mr. 
Sabin  hastily  broke  the  seal  and  read : 

"MONSIEUR, — I  kill  myself  because  it  is  easiest  and 
best.  The  poison  was  given  me  for  you,  but  I  have 


218       THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

not  the  courage  to  become  a  murderer,  or  afterwards 
to  conceal  my  guilt.  Monsieur  has  been  a  good  master 
to  me,  and  also  Madame  la  Comtesse  was  always  in- 
dulgent and  kind.  The  mistake  of"  my  life  has  been 
the  joining  the  lower  order  of  the  Society.  The 
money  which  I  have  received  has  been  but  a  poor  re- 
turn for  the  anxiety  and  trouble  which  have  come 
upon  me  since  Madame  la  Comtesse  left  America. 
Now  that  I  seek  shelter  in  the  grave  I  am  free  to 
warn  Monsieur  that  the  Prince  of  S.  L.  is  his  deter- 
mined and  merciless  enemy,  and  that  he  has  already 
made  an  unlawful  use  of  his  position  in  the  Society 
for  the  sake  of  private  vengeance.  If  monsieur  would 
make  a  powerful  friend  he  should  seek  the  Lady 
Muriel  Carey. 

"Monsieur  will  be  so  good  as  to  destroy  this  when 
read.  My  will  is  in  my  trunk. 

"Your  Grace's  faithful  servant, 

"JULES  DUSON." 

Mr.  Sabin  read  this  letter  carefully  through  to  the 
end.  Then  he  put  it  into  his  pocket-book  and  quickly 
rang  the  bell. 

"You  had  better  send  for  a  doctor  at  once,"  he 
said  to  the  waiter  who  appeared.  "My  servant  ap- 
pears to  have  suffered  from  some  sudden  illness.  I 
am  afraid  that  he  is  quite  dead." 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


Y 


4  4  ^~  T  OU  spoke,  my  dear  Lucille,"  the 
Duchess  of  Dorset  said,  "of  your 
departure.  Is  not  that  a  little 
premature  ?" 

Lucille  shrugged  her  beautiful  shoulders,  and 
leaned  back  in  her  corner  of  the  couch  with  half-closed 
eyes.  The  Duchess,  who  was  very  Anglo-Saxon,  was 
an  easy  person  to  read,  and  Lucille  was  anxious  to 
know  her  fate. 

"Why  premature?"  she  asked.  "I  was  sent  for  to 
use  my  influence  with  Reginald  Brott.  Well,  I  did 
my  best,  and  I  believe  that  for  days  it  was  just  a 
chance  whether  I  did  not  succeed.  However,  as  it  hap- 
pened, I  failed.  One  of  his  friends  came  and  pulled 
him  away  just  as  he  was  wavering.  He  has  declared 
himself  now  once  and  for  all.  After  his  speech  at 
Glasgow  he  cannot  draw  back.  I  was  brought  all  the 
way  from  America,  and  I  want  to  go  back  to  my 
husband." 

The  Duchess  pursed  her  lips. 

"When  one  has  the  honour,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "of 
belonging  to  so  wonderful  an  organisation  as  this  we 
must  not  consider  too  closely  the  selfish  claims  of 
family.  I  am  sure  that  years  ago  I  should  have 
laughed  at  any  one  who  had  told  me  that  I,  Georgina 
Croxton,  should  ever  belong  to  such  a  thing  as  a 


220      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

secret  society,  even  though  it  had  some  connection 
with  so  harmless  and  excellent  an  organisation  as  the 
Primrose  League." 

"It  does  seem  remarkable,"  Lucille  murmured. 

"But  look  what  terrible  times  have  come  upon  us,'* 
the  Duchess  continued,  without  heeding  the  interrup- 
tion. "When  I  was  a  girl  a  Radical  was  a  person 
absolutely  without  consideration.  Now  all  our  great 
cities  are  hot-beds  of  Socialism  and — and  anarchism. 
The  whole  country  seems  banded  together  against 
the  aristocracy  and  the  landowners.  Combination 
amongst  us  became  absolutely  necessary  in  some 
shape  or  form.  When  the  Prince  came  and  began  to 
drop  hints  about  the  way  the  spread  of  Socialism  had 
been  checked  in  Hungary  and  Austria,  and  even  Ger- 
many, I  was  interested  from  the  first.  And  when  he 
went  further,  and  spoke  of  the  Society,  it  was  I  who 
persuaded  Dorset  to  join.  Dear  man,  he  is  very 
earnest,  but  very  slow,  and  very  averse  to  anj'thing  at 
all  secretive.  I  am  sure  the  reflection  that  he  is  a 
member  of  a  secret  society,  even  although  it  is  simply 
a  linking  together  of  the  aristocracy  of  Europe  in 
their  own  defence,  has  kept  him  awake  for  many  a 
night." 

Lucille  was  a  little  bored. 

"The  Society,"  she  said,  "is  an  admirable  one 
enough,  but  just  now  I  am  beginning  to  feel  it  a 
little  exacting.  I  think  that  the  Prince  expects  a 
good  deal  of  one.  I  shall  certainly  ask  for  my  re- 
lease to-night." 

The  Duchess  looked  doubtful. 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON      221 

"Release !"  she  repeated.  "Come,  is  that  not  rather 
an  exaggerated  expression?  I  trust  that  your  stay 
at  Dorset  House  has  not  in  any  way  suggested  an 
imprisonment." 

"On  the  contrary,"  Lucille  answered;  "you  and 
the  Duke  have  been  most  kind.  But  you  must  re- 
member that  I  have  a  home  of  my  own — and  a  hus- 
band of  my  own." 

"I  have  no  doubt,"  the  Duchess  said,  "that  you 
will  be  able  to  return  to  them  some  day.  But  you 
must  not  be  impatient.  I  do  not  think  that  the  Prince 
has  given  up  all  hopes  of  Reginald  Brott  yet." 

Lucille  was  silent.  So  her  emancipation  was  to  be 
postponed.  After  all,  it  was  what  she  had  feared. 
She  sat  watching  idly  the  Duchess's  knitting  needles. 
Lady  Carey  came  sweeping  in,  wonderful  in  a  black 
velvet  gown  and  a  display  of  jewels  almost  bar- 
baric. 

"On  my  way  to  the  opera,"  she  announced.  "The 
Maddersons  sent  me  their  box.  Will  any  of  you  good 
people  come?  What  do  you  say,  Lucille?" 

Lucille  shook  her  head. 

"My  toilette  is  deficient,"  she  said;  "and  besides, 
I  am  staying  at  home  to  see  the  Prince.  We  expect 
him  this  evening." 

"You'll  probably  be  disappointed  then,"  Lady, 
Carey  remarked,  "for  he's  going  to  join  us  at  the 
opera.  Run  and  change  your  gown.  I'll  wait." 

"Are  you  sure  that  the  Prince  will  be  there?" 
Lucille  asked. 

"Certain." 


222       THE     YELLOW     CRAYON 

"Then  I  will  come,"  she  said,  "if  the  Duchess  will 
excuse  me." 

The  Duchess  and  Lady  Carey  were  left  alone  for 
a  few  minutes.  The  former  put  down  her  knitting. 

"Why  do  we  keep  that  woman  here,"  she  asked, 
"now  that  Brott  has  broken  away  from  her  alto- 
gether?" 

Lady  Carey  laughed  meaningly. 

"Better  ask  the  Prince,"  she  remarked. 

The  Duchess  frowned. 

"My  dear  Muriel,"  she  said,  "I  think  that  you  are 
wrong  to  make  such  insinuations.  I  am  sure  that  the 
Prince  is  too  much  devoted  to  our  cause  to  ?llow  any 
personal  considerations  to  intervene." 

Lady  Carey  yawned. 

"Rats !"  she  exclaimed. 

The  Duchess  took  up  her  knitting,  and  went  on 
with  it  without  remark.  Lady  Carey  burst  out  laugh- 
ing. 

"Don't  look  so  shocked,"  she  exclaimed.  "It's 
funny.  I  can't  help  being  a  bit  slangy.  You  do 
take  everything  so  seriously.  Of  course  you  can  see 
that  the  Prince  is  waiting  to  make  a  fool  of  himself 
over  Lucille.  He  has  been  trying  more  or  less  all  his 
life." 

"He  may  admire  her,"  the  Duchess  said.  "I  am 
sure  that  he  would  not  allow  that  to  influence  him 
in  his  present  position.  By  the  bye,  she  is  anxious 
to  leave  us  now  that  the  Brott  affair  is  over.  Do  you 
think  that  the  Prince  will  agree?" 

Lady  Carey's  face  hardened. 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON      223 

"I  am  sure  that  he  will  not,"  she  said  coolly. 
"There  are  reasons  why  she  may  not  at  present  be 
allowed  to  rejoin  her  husband." 

The  Duchess  used  her  needles  briskly. 

"For  my  part,"  she  said,  "I  can  see  no  object  in 
keeping  her  here  any  longer.  Mr.  Brott  has  shown 
himself  quite  capable  of  keeping  her  at  arm's  length. 
I  cannot  see  what  further  use  she  is." 

Lady  Carey  heard  the  flutter  of  skirts  outside  and 
rose. 

"There  are  wheels  within  wheels,"  she  remarked. 
"My  dear  Lucille,  what  a  charming  toilette.  We  shall 
have  the  lady  journalists  besieging  us  in  our  box. 
Paquin,  of  course.  Good-night,  Duchess.  Glad  to 
see  you're  getting  on  with  the  socks,  or  stockings, 
do  you  call  them?" 

Insolent  aristocratic,  now  and  then  attractive  in 
some  strange  suggestive  way,  Lady  Carey  sat  in 
front  of  the  box  and  exchanged  greetings  with  her 
friends.  Presently  the  Prince  came  in  and  took  the 
chair  between  the  two  women.  Lady  Carey  greeted 
him  with  a  nod. 

"Here's  Lucille  dying  to  return  to  her  lawful  hus- 
band," she  remarked.  "Odd  thing,  isn't  it?  Most 
of  the  married  women  I  ever  knew  are  dying  to  get 
away  from  theirs.  You  can  make  her  happy  or  mis- 
erable in  a  few  moments." 

The  Prince  leaned  over  between  them,  but  he  looked 
only  at  Lucille. 

"I  wish  that  I  could,"  he  murmured.  "I  wish  that 
that  were  within  my  power." 


"It  is,"  she  answered  coolly.  "Muriel  is  quite  right. 
I  am  most  anxious  to  return  to  my  husband." 

The  Prince  said  nothing.  Lady  Carey,  glancing 
towards  him  at  that  moment,  was  surprised  at  certain 
signs  of  disquietude  in  his  face  which  startled  her. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  she  asked  almost 
roughly. 

"Matter  with  me?  Nothing,"  he  answered.  "Why 
this  unaccustomed  solicitude?" 

Lady  Carey  looked  into  his  face  fiercely.  He  was 
pale,  and  there  was  a  strained  look  about  his  eyes. 
He  seemed,  too,  to  be  listening.  From  outside  in  the 
street  came  faintly  to  their  ears  the  cry  of  a  newsboy. 

"Get  me  an  evening  paper,"  she  whispered  in  his  ear. 

He  got  up  and  left  the  box.  Lucille  was  watching 
the  people  below  and  had  not  appreciated  the 
significance  of  what  had  been  passing  between  the 
two.  Lady  Carey  leaned  back  in  the  box  with  half- 
closed  eyes.  Her  fingers  were  clenched  nervously  to- 
gether, her  bosom  was  rising  and  falling  quickly.  If 
he  had  dared  to  defy  her !  What  was  it  the  newsboys 
were  calling?  What  a  jargon!  Why  did  not  Saxe 
Leinitzer  return?  Perhaps — he  was  afraid!  Her 
heart  stood  still  for  a  moment,  and  a  little  half -stifled 
cry  broke  from  her  lips.  Lucille  looked  around 
quickly. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Muriel?"  she  asked.  "Are 
you  faint?" 

"Faint,  no,"  Lady  Carey  answered  roughly.  "I'm 
quite  well.  Don't  take  any  notice  of  me.  Do  you 
hear?  Don't  look  at  me." 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       225 

Lucille  obeyed.  Lady  Carey  sat  quite  still  with 
her  hand  pressed  to  her  side.  It  was  a  stifling  pain. 
She  was  sure  that  she  had  heard  at  last.  "Sudden 
death  of  a  visitor  at  the  Carlton  Hotel."  The  place 
was  beginning  to  go  round. 

Saxe  Leinitzer  returned.  His  face  to  her  seemed 
positively  ghastly.  He  carried  an  evening  paper  in 
his  hand.  She  snatched  it  away  from  him.  It  was 
there  before  her  in  bold,  black  letters : 

"Sudden  death  in  the  Carlton  Hotel." 

Her  eyes,  dim  a  moment  ago,  suddenly  blazed  fire 
upon  him. 

"It  shall  be  a  life  for  a  life,"  she  whispered.  "If 
you  have  killed  him  you  shall  die." 

Lucille  looked  at  them  bewildered.  And  just  then 
came  a  sharp  tap  at  the  box  door.  No  one  answered 
it,  but  the  door  was  softly  opened.  Mr.  Sabin  stood 
upon  the  threshold. 

"Pray,  don't  let  me  disturb  you,"  he  said.  "I  was 
unable  to  refrain  from  paying  you  a  bi'ief  visit. 
Why,  Prince,  Lady  Carey !  I  can  assure  you  that  I 
am  no  ghost." 

He  glanced  from  one  to  the  other  with  a  delicate 
smile  of  mockery  parting  his  thin  lips.  For  upon 
the  Prince's  forehead  the  perspiration  stood  out 
like  beads,  and  he  shrank  away  from  Mr.  Sabin  as 
from  some  unholy  thing.  Lady  Carey  had  fallen 
back  across  her  chair.  Her  hand  was  still  pressed  to 
her  side,  and  her  face  was  very  pale.  A  nervous  little 
laugh  broke  from  her  lips. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

MR.  SABIN  found  a  fourth  chair,  and 
calmly  seated  himself  by  Lucille's  side. 
But  his  eyes,  were  fixed  upon  Lady 
Carey.  She  was  slowly  recovering  her- 
self, but  Mr.  Sabin,  who  had  never  properly  under- 
stood her  attitude  towards  him,  was  puzzled  at  the  air 
of  intense  relief  which  almost  shone  in  her  face. 

"You  seem — all  of  you,"  he  remarked  suavely,  "to 
have  found  the  music  a  little  exciting.  Wagner  cer- 
tainly knew  how  to  find  his  way  to  the  emotions.  Or 
perhaps  I  interrupted  an  interesting  discussion?" 

Lucille  smiled  gently  upon  him. 

"These  two,"  she  said,  looking  from  the  Prince 
to  Lady  Carey,  "seem  to  have  been  afflicted  with  a 
sudden  nervous  excitement,  and  yet  I  do  not  think 
that  they  are,  either  of  them,  very  susceptible  to 
music." 

Lady  Carey  leaned  forward,  and  looked  at  him 
from  behind  the  large  fan  of  white  feathers  which 
she  was  lazily  fluttering  before  her  face. 

"Your  entrance,"  she  murmured,  "was  most  oppor- 
tune, besides  being  very  welcome.  The  Prince  and  I 
were  literally  on  the  point  of  flying  at  one  another's 
throats." 

Mr.  Sabin  glanced  at  his  neighbour  and  smiled. 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       227 

"You  are  certainly  a  little  out  of  sorts,  Saxe 
Leinitzer,"  he  remarked.  "You  look  pale,  and 
your  hands  are  not  quite  steady.  Nerves,  I  suppose. 
You  should  see  Dr.  Carson  in  Brook  Street." 

The  Prince  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"My  health,"  he  said,  "was  never  better.  It  is  true 
that  your  coming  was  somewhat  of  a  surprise,"  he 
added,  looking  steadily  at  Mr.  Sabin.  "I  understood 
that  you  had  gone  for  a  short  journey,  and  I  was 
not  expecting  to  see  you  back  again  so  soon." 

"Duson,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "has  taken  that  short 
journey  instead.  It  was  rather  a  liberty,  but  he  left 
a  letter  for  me  fully  explaining  his  motives.  I  cannot 
blame  him." 

The  Prince  stroked  his  moustache. 

"Ah!"  he  remarked.  "That  is  a  pity.  You  may, 
however,  find  it  politic,  even  necessary,  to  join  him 
very  shortly." 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled  grimly. 

"I  shall  go  when  I  am  ready,"  he  said,  "not  be- 
fore!" 

Lucille  looked  from  one  to  the  other  with  protesting 
eyebrows. 

"Come,"  she  said,  "it  is  very  impolite  of  you  to 
talk  in  riddles  before  my  face.  I  have  been  'flatter- 
ing myself,  Victor,  that  you  were  here  to  see  me.  Do 
not  wound  my  vanity." 

He  whispered  something  in  her  ear,  and  she 
laughed  softly  back  at  him.  The  Prince,  with  the 
evening  paper  in  his  hand,  escaped  from  the  box,  and 
found  a  retired  spot  where  he  could  read  the  little 


paragraph  at  his  leisure.  Lady  Carey  pretended  to 
be  absorbed  by  the  music. 

"Has  anything  happened,  Victor?"  Lucille  whis- 
pered. 

He  hesitated. 

"Well,  in  a  sense,  yes,"  he  admitted.  "I  appear 
to  have  become  unpopular  with  our  friend,  the  Prince. 
Duson,  who  has  always  been  a  spy  upon  my  move- 
ments, was  entrusted  with  a  little  sleeping  draught 
for  me,  which  he  preferred  to  take  himself.  That  is 
all." 

"Duson  is '» 

He  nodded. 

"He  is  dead!" 

Lucille  went  very  pale. 

"This  is  horrible !"  she  murmured. 

"The  Prince  is  a  little  annoyed,  naturally,"  Mr. 
Sabin  said.  "It  is  vexing  to  have  your  plans  upset 
in  such  a  manner." 

She  shuddered. 

"He  is  hateful !  Victor,  I  fear  that  he  does  not 
mean  to  let  me  leave  Dorset  House  just  yet.  I  am 
almost  inclined  to  become,  like  you,  an  outcast.  Who 
knows — we  might  go  free.  Bloodshed  is  always 
avoided  as  much  as  possible,  and  I  do  not  see  how  else 
they  could  strike  at  me.  Social  ostracism  is  their  chief 
weapon.  But  in  America  that  could  not  hurt  us." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Not  yet,"  he  said.  "I  am  sure  that  Saxe  Leinitzer 
is  not  playing  the  game.  But  he  is  too  well  served 
here  to  make  defiance  wise." 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

"You  run  the  risk  yourself,"  she  protested. 

He  smiled. 

"It  is  a  different  matter.  By  the  bye,  we  are  over- 
heard." 

Lady  Carey  had  forgotten  to  listen  any  more  to 
the  music.  She  was  watching  them  both,  a  steely 
light  in  her  eyes,  her  fingers  nervously  entwined.  The 
Prince  was  still  absent. 

"Pray  do  not  consider  me,"  she  begged.  "So  far 
as  I  am  concerned,  your  conversation  is  of  no  possible 
interest.  But  I  think  you  had  better  remember  that 
the  Prince  is  in  the  corridor  just  outside." 

"We  are  much  obliged  to  you,"  Mr.  Sabin  said. 
"The  Prince  may  hear  every  word  I  have  to  say  about 
him.  But  all  the  same,  I  thank  you  for  vour  warn- 
ing." 

"I  fear  that  we  are  very  unsociable,  Muriel,"  Lucille 
said,  "and,  after  all,  I  should  never  have  been  here 
but  for  you." 

Lady  Carey  turned  her  left  shoulder  upon  them. 

"I  beg,"  she  said,  "that  you  will  leave  me  alone 
with  the  music.  I  prefer  it." 

The  Prince  suddenly  stood  upon  the  threshold. 
His  hand  rested  lightly  upon  the  arm  of  another  man. 

"Come  in,  Brott,"  he  said.  "The  women  will  be 
charmed  to  see  you.  And  I  don't  suppose  they've 
read  your  speeches.  Countess,  here  is  the  man  who 
counts  all  equal  under  the  sun,  who  decries  class,  and 
recognises  no  social  distinctions.  Brott  was  born  to 
lead  a  revolution.  He  is  our  natural  enemy.  Let  us 
all  try  to  convert  him." 


Brott  was  pale,  and  deep  new  lines  were  furrowed 
on  his  face.  Nevertheless  he  smiled  faintly  as  he 
bowed  over  Lucille's  fingers. 

"My  introduction,"  he  remarked,  "is  scarcely  re- 
assuring. Yet  here  at  least,  if  anywhere  in  the  world, 
we  should  all  meet  upon  equal  ground.  Music  is  a 
universal  leveller." 

"And  we  haven't  a  chance,"  Lady  Carey  remarked 
with  uplifted  eyebrows,  "of  listening  to  a  bar  of  it." 

Lucille  welcomed  the  newcomer  coldly.  Neverthe- 
less, he  manoeuvred  himself  into  the  place  by  her  side. 
She  took  up  her  fan  and  commenced  swinging  it 
thoughtfully. 

"You  are  surprised  to  see  me  here?"  he  murmured. 

"Yes !"  she  admitted. 

He  looked  wearily  away  from  the  stage  up  into 
her  face. 

"And  I  too,"  he  said.  "I  am  surprised  to  find  my- 
self here!" 

"I  pictured  you,"  she  remarked,  "as  immersed  in 
affairs.  Did  I  not  hear  something  of  a  Radical  min- 
istry with  you  for  Premier?" 

"It  has  been  spoken  of,"  he  admitted. 

"Then  I  really  cannot  see,"  she  said,  "what  you  are 
doing  here." 

"Why  not  ?"  he  asked  doggedly. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"In  the  first  place,"  she  said,  "you  ought  to  be 
rushing  about  amongst  your  supporters,  keeping 
them  up  to  the  mark,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  And 
in  the  second " 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       231 

"Well?" 

"Are  we  not  the  very  people  against  whom  you 
have  declared  war?" 

"I  have  declared  war  against  no  people,"  he  an- 
swered. "It  is  systems  and  classes,  abuses,  injustice 
against  which  I  have  been  forced  to  speak.  I  would 
not  deprive  your  Order  of  a  single  privilege  to  which 
they  are  justly  entitled.  But  you  must  remember 
that  I  am  a  people's  man.  Their  cause  is  mine.  They 
look  to  me  as  their  mouthpiece." 

Lucille  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"You  cannot  evade  the  point,"  she  said.  "If  you 
are  the,  what  do  you  call  it,  the  mouthpiece  of  the 
people,  I  do  not  see  how  you  can  be  anything  else 
than  the  enemy  of  the  aristocracy." 

"The  aristocracy?  Who  are  they?"  he  asked.  "I 
am  the  enemy  of  all  those  who^because  they  possess 
an  ancient  name  and  inherited  wealth,  consider  them- 
selves the  God-appointed  bullies  of  the  poor,  dealing 
them  out  meagre  charities,  lordly  patronage,  an  un- 
spoken but  bitter  contempt.  But  the  aristocracy  of 
the  earth  are  not  of  such  as  these.  Your  class  are  fur- 
nishing the  world  with  advanced  thinkers  every  year, 
every  month!  Inherited  prejudices  can  never  survive 
the  next  few  generations.  The  fusion  of  classes  must 
come." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"You  are  sanguine,  my  friend,"  she  said.  "Many 
generations  have  come  and  gone  since  the  wonderful 
pages  of  history  were  opened  to  us.  And  during 
all  these  years  how  much  nearer  have  the  serf  and 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

the  aristocrat  come  together?  Nay,  have  they  not 
rather  drifted  apart  ?  .  .  .  But  listen !  This  is 
the  great  chorus.  We  must  not  miss  it." 

"So  the  Prince  has  brought  back  the  wanderer," 
Lady  Carey  whispered  to  Mr.  Sabin  behind  her  fan. 
"Hasn't  he  rather  the  air  of  a  sheep  who  has  strayed 
from  the  fold?" 

Mr.  Sabin  raised  the  horn  eyeglass,  which  he  so 
seldom  used,  and  contemplated  Brott  steadily. 

"He  reminds  me  more  than  ever,"  he  remarked, 
"of  Rienzi.  He  is  like  a  man  torn  asunder  by  great 
causes.  They  say  that  his  speech  at  Glasgow  was 
the  triumph  of  a  born  orator." 

Lady  Carey  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"It  was  practically  the  preaching  a  revolution  to 
the  people,"  she  said.  "A  few  more  such,  and  we 
might  have  the  red  flag  waving.  He  left  Glasgow 
in  a  ferment.  If  he  really  comes  into  power,  what 
are  we  to  expect?" 

"To  the  onlookers,"  Mr.  Sabin  remarked,  "a  revo- 
lution in  this  country  would  possess  many  interesting 
features.  The  common  people  lack  the  ferocity  of 
our  own  rabble,  but  they  are  even  more  determined. 
I  may  yet  live  to  see  an  English  Duke  earning  an 
honest  living  in  the  States." 

"It  depends  very  much  upon  Brott,"  Lady  Carey 
said.  "For  his  own  sake  it  is  a  pity  that  he  is  in 
love  with  Lucille." 

Mr.  Sabin  agreed  with  her  blandly. 

"It  is,"  he  affirmed,  "a  most  regrettable  inci- 
dent." 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       233 

She  leaned  a  little  towards  him.  The  box  was  not 
a  large  one,  and  their  chairs  already  touched. 

"Are  you  a  jealous  husband?"  she  asked. 

"Horribly,"  he  answered. 

"Your  devotion  to  Lucille,  or  rather  the  singleness 
of  your  devotion  to  Lucille,"  she  remarked,  "is  posi- 
tively the  most  gauche  thing  about  you.  It  is — ab- 
solutely callow !" 

He  laughed  gently. 

"Did  I  not  always  tell  you,"  he  said,  "that  when 
I  did  marry  I  should  make  an  excellent  husband?" 

"You  are  at  least,"  she  answered  sharply,  "a  very 
complaisant  one." 

The  Prince  leaned  forward  from  the  shadows  of 
the  box. 

"I  invite  you  all,"  he  said,  "to  supper  with  me. 
It  is  something  of  an  occasion,  this!  For  I  do  not 
think  that  we  shall  all  meet  again  just  as  we  are  now 
for  a  very  long  time." 

"Your  invitation,"  Mr.  Sabin  remarked,  "is  most 
agreeable.  But  your  suggestion  is,  to  say  the  least 
of  it,  nebulous.  I  do  not  see  what  is  to  prevent  your 
all  having  supper  with  me  to-morrow  evening." 

Lady  Carey  laughed  as  she  rose,  and  stretched  out 
her  hand  for  her  cloak. 

"To-morrow  evening,"  she  said,  "is  a  long  way 
off.  Let  us  make  sure  of  to-night — before  the  Prince 
changes  his  mind." 

Mr.  Sabin  bowed  low. 

"To-night  by  all  means,"  he  declared.  "But  my 
invitation  remains — a  challenge!" 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


^  HE  Prince,  being  host,  arranged  the  places 

at    his    supper-table.     Mr.    Sabin    found 

himself,   therefore,   between   Lady    Carey 

and  a  young  German  attache,  whom  they 

had  met  in  the  ante-room  of  the  restaurant.     Lucille 

had  the  Prince  and  Mr.  Brott  on  either  side  of  her. 

Lady  Carey  monopolised  at  first  the  greater  part 
of  the  conversation.  Mr.  Sabin  was  unusually  silent. 
The  German  attache,  whose  name  was  Baron  von 
Opperman,  did  not  speak  until  the  champagne  was 
served,  when  he  threw  a  bombshell  into  the  midst  of 
the  little  party. 

"I  hear,"  he  said,  with  a  broad  and  seraphic  smile, 
"that  in  this  hotel  there  has  to-day  a  murder  been 
committed." 

Baron  von  Opperman  was  suddenly  the  cynosure 
of  several  pairs  of  eyes.  He  was  delighted  with  the 
success  of  his  attempt  towards  the  general  entertain- 
ment. 

"The  evening  papers,"  he  continued,  "they  have 
in  them  news  of  a  sudden  death.  But  in  the  hotel 
here  now  they  are  speaking  of  something — what  you 
call  more — mysterious.  There  has  been  ordered  an 
examination  post-mortem !" 

"It  is  a  case  of  poisoning  then,  I  presume?"  the 
Prince  asked,  leaning  forward. 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       235 

"It  is  so  supposed,"  the  attache  answered.  "It 
seems  that  the  doctors  could  find  no  trace  of  disease, 
nothing  to  have  caused  death.  They  were  not  able 
to  decide  anything.  The  man,  they  said,  was  in  per- 
fect health— but  dead." 

"It  must  have  been,  then,"  the  Prince  remarked, 
"a  very  wonderful  poison." 

"Without  doubt,"  Baron  Opperman  answered. 

The  Prince  sighed  gently. 

"There  are  many  such,"  he  murmured.  "Indeed 
the  science  of  toxicology  was  never  so  ill-understood 
as  now.  I  am  assured  that  there  are  many  poisons 
known  only  to  a  few  chemists  in  the  world,  a  single 
grain  of  which  is  sufficient  to  destroy  the  strongest 
man  and  leave  not  the  slightest  trace  behind.  If  the 
poisoner  be  sufficiently  accomplished  he  can  pursue 
his- — calling  without  the  faintest  risk  of  detection." 

Mr.  Sabin  sipped  his  wine  thoughtfully. 

"The  Prince  is,  I  believe,  right,"  he  remarked.  "It 
is  for  that  reason,  doubtless,  that  I  have  heard  of 
men  whose  lives  have  been  threatened,  who  have  de- 
posited in  safe  places  a  sealed  statement  of  the  dan- 
ger in  which  they  find  themselves,  with  an  account  of 
its  source,  so  that  if  they  should  come  to  an  end  in 
any  way  mysterious  there  may  be  evidence  against 
their  murderers." 

"A  very  reasonable  and  judicious  precaution,"  the 
Prince  remarked  with  glittering  eyes.  "Only  if  the 
poison  was  indeed  of  such  a  nature  that  it  was  not 
possible  to  trace  it  nothing  worse  than  suspicion  could 
ever  be  the  lot  of  any  one." 


236      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

Mr.  Sabin  helped  himself  carefully  to  salad,  and 
resumed  the  discussion  with  his  next  course. 

"Perhaps  not,"  he  admitted.  "But  you  must  re- 
member that  suspicion  is  of  itself  a  grievous  embar- 
rassment. No  man  likes  to  feel  that  he  is  being  sus- 
pected of  murder.  By  the  bye,  is  it  known  whom  the 
unfortunate  person  was?" 

"The  servant  of  a  French  nobleman  who  is  stay- 
ing in  the  hotel,"  Mr.  Brott  remarked.  "I  heard  as 
much  as  that." 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled.  Lady  Carey  glanced  at  him 
meaningly. 

"You  have  worried  the  Prince  quite  sufficiently," 
she  whispered.  "Change  the  subject." 

Mr.  Sabin  bowed. 

"You  are  very  considerate — to  the  Prince,"  he  said. 

"It  is  perhaps  for  your  sake,"  she  answered.  "And 
as  for  the  Prince — well,  you  know,  or  you  should 
know,  for  how  much  he  counts  with  me." 

Mr.  Sabin  glanced  at  her  curiously.  She  was  a 
little  flushed  as  though  with  some  inward  excitement. 
Her  eyes  were  bright  and  soft.  Despite  a  certain 
angularity  of  figure  and  her  hollow  cheeks  she  was 
certainly  one  of  the  most  distinguished-looking 
women  in  the  room. 

"You  are  so  dense,"  she  whispered  in  his  ear,  "wil- 
fully dense,  perhaps.  You  will  not  understand  that 
I  wish  to  be  your  friend." 

He  smiled  with  gentle  deprecation. 

"Do  you  blame  me,"  he  murmured,  "if  I  seem  in- 
credulous? For  I  am  an  old  man,  and  you  are  spoken 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       237 

of  always  as  the  friend  of  my  enemy,  the  friend  of 
the  Prince." 

"I  wonder,"  she  said  thoughtfully,  "if  this  is  really 
the  secret  of  your  mistrust?  Do  you  indeed  fear  that 
I  have  no  other  interest  in  life  save  to  serve  Saxe  Lei- 
nitzer?" 

"As  to  that,"  he  answered,  "I  cannot  say.  Yet  I 
know  that  only  a  few  months  ago  you  were  acting  un- 
der orders  from  him.  It  is  you  who  brought  Lucille 
from  America.  It  was  through  you  that  the  first 
blow  was  struck  at  my  happiness." 

"Cannot  I  atone?"  she  murmured  under  her  breath. 
"If  I  can  I  will.  And  as  for  the  present,  well,  I  am 
outside  his  schemes  now.  Let  us  be  friends.  You 
would  find  me  a  very  valuable  ally." 

"Let  it  be  so,"  he  answered  without  emotion.  "You 
shall  help  me,  if  you  will,  to  regain  Lucille.  I  prom- 
ise you  then  that  my  gratitude  shall  not  disappoint 
you." 

She  bit  her  lip. 

"And  are  you  sure,"  she  whispered,  "that  Lucille 
is  anxious  to  be  won  back?  She  loves  intrigue,  excite- 
ment, the  sense  of  being  concerned  in  important  do- 
ings. Besides — you  must  have  heard  what  they  say 
about  her — and  Brott.  Look  at  her  now.  She  wears 
her  grass  widowhood  lightly  enough." 

Mr.  Sabin  looked  across  the  table.  Lucille  had  in- 
deed all  the  appearance  of  a  woman  thoroughly  at 
peace  with  the  world  and  herself.  Brott  was  talking 
to  her  in  smothered  and  eager  undertones.  The  Prince 
was  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  intervene.  Mr. 


238      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

Sabin  looked  Into  Brett's  white  strong  face,  and  was 
thoughtful. 

"It  is  a  great  power — the  power  of  my  sex,"  Lady 
Carey  continued,  with  a  faint,  subtle  smile.  "A  word 
from  Lucille,  and  the  history  book  of  the  future  must 
be  differently  written." 

"She  will  not  speak  that  word,"  Mr.  Sabin  said. 

Lady  Carey  shrugged  her  shoulders.  The  subtlety 
of  her  smile  faded  away.  Her  whole  face  expressed 
a  contemptuous  and  self-assured  cynicism. 

"You  know  her  very  well,"  she  murmured.  "Yet 
she  and  I  are  no  strangers.  She  is  one  who  loves  to 
taste — no,  to  drink — deeply  of  all  the  experiences  of 
life.  Why  should  we  blame  her,  you  and  I?  Have 
we  not  the  same  desire?" 

Mr.  Sabin  lit  a  cigarette. 

"Once,  perhaps,"  he  remarked.  "You  must  not 
forget  that  I  am  no  longer  a  young  man." 

She  leaned  towards  him. 

"You  will  die  young,"  she  murmured.  "You  are 
not  of  the  breed  of  men  who  grow  old." 

"Do  you  mean  to  turn  my  head?"  he  asked  her, 
with  a  humorous  smile. 

"It  would  be  easier,"  she  answered,  "than  to  touch 
your  heart." 

Then  Lucille  looked  across  at  them — and  Mr. 
Sabin  suddenly  remembered  that  Reginald  Brott  knew 
them  both  only  as  strangers. 

"Muriel,"  she  said,  "you  are  behaving  disgrace- 
fully." 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       239 

"I  am  doing  my  best,"  Lady  Carey  answered,  "to 
keep  you  in  countenance." 

The  eyes  of  the  two  women  met  for  a  moment,  and 
though  the  smiles  lingered  still  upon  their  faces  Lady 
Carey  at  any  rate  was  not  able  to  wholly  conceal  her 
hatred.  Lucille  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"I  am  doing  my  best,"  she  said,  "to  convert  Mr. 
Brott." 

"To  what?"  Lady  Carey  asked. 

"To  a  sane  point  of  view  concerning  the  holiness 
of  the  aristocracy,"  Lucille  answered.  "I  am  afraid 
though  that  I  have  made  very  little  impression.  In 
his  heart  I  believe  Mr.  Brott  would  like  to  see  us  all 
working  for  our  living,  school-teachers  and  dress- 
makers, and  that  sort  of  thing,  you  know." 

Mr.  Brott  protested. 

"I  am  not  even,"  he  declared,  "moderately  ad- 
vanced in  my  views  as  regards  matters  of  your  sex. 
To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  do  not  like  women  to  work 
at  all  outside  their  homes." 

Lady  Carey  laughed. 

"My  dear,"  she  said  to  Lucille,  "you  and  I  may 
as  well  retire  in  despair.  Can't  you  see  the  sort  of 
woman  Mr.  Brott  admires?  She  isn't  like  us  a  bit. 
She  is  probably  a  healthy,  ruddy-cheeked  young  per- 
son who  lives  in  the  country,  gets  up  to  breakfast 
to  pour  out  the  coffee  for  some  sort  of  a  male  rela- 
tive, goes  round  the  garden  snipping  off  roses  in  big 
gloves  and  a  huge  basket,  interviews  the  cook,  orders 
the  dinner,  makes  fancy  waistcoats  for  her  husband, 


240      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

and  failing  a  sewing  maid,  does  the  mending  for  the 
family.  You  and  I,  Lucille,  are  not  like  that." 

"Well,  you  have  mentioned  nothing  which  I 
couldn't  do,  if  it  seemed  worth  while,"  Lucille  ob- 
jected. "It  sounds  very  primitive  and  delightful.  I 
am  sure  we  are  all  too  luxurious  and  too  lazy.  I  think 
we  ought  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf." 

"For  you,  dear  Lucille,"  Lady  Carey  said  with 
suave  and  deadly  satire,  "what  improvement  is  pos- 
sible? You  have  all  that  you  could  desire.  It  is  much 
less  fortunate  persons,  such  as  myself,  to  whom 
Utopia  must  seem  such  a  delightful  place." 

A  frock-coated  and  altogether  immaculate  young 
man  approached  their  table  and  accosted  Mr.  Sabin. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  he  said,  "but  the  man- 
ager would  be  much  obliged  if  you  would  spare  him 
a  moment  or  two  in  his  private  room  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible." 

Mr.  Sabin  nodded. 

"In  a  few  minutes,"  he  answered. 

The  little  party  broke  up  almost  immediately. 
Coffee  was  ordered  in  the  palm  court,  where  the  band 
was  playing.  Mr.  Sabin  and  the  Prince  fell  a  little 
behind  the  others  on  the  way  out  of  the  room. 

"You  heard  my  summons?"  Mr.  Sabin  asked. 

"Yes!" 

"I  am  going  to  be  cross-examined  as  regards  Duson. 
I  am  no  longer  a  member  of  the  Order.  What  is  to 
prevent  my  setting  them  upon  the  right  track?" 

"The  fact,"  the  Prince  said  coolly,  "that  you  are 
hoping  one  day  to  recover  Lucille." 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       841 

"I  doubt,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "whether  you  are 
strong  enough  to  keep  her  from  me." 

The  Prince  smiled.  All  his  white  teeth  were  show- 
ing. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "you  know  better  than — much 
better  than  that.  Lucille  must  wait  her  release.  You 
know  that." 

"I  will  buy  it,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "with  a  lie  to  the 
manager  here,  or  I  will  tell  the  truth  and  still  take 
her  from  you." 

The  Prince  stood  upon  the  topmost  step  of  the 
balcony.  Below  was  the  palm  court,  with  many  little 
groups  of  people  dotted  about. 

"My  dear  friend,"  he  said,  "Duson  died  absolutely 
of  his  own  free  will.  You  know  that  quite  well.  We 
should  have  preferred  that  the  matter  had  been  other- 
wise arranged.  But  as  it  is  we  are  safe,  absolutely 
safe." 

"Duson's  letter!"  Mr.  Sabin  remarked. 

"You  will  not  show  it,"  the  Prince  answered.  "You 
cannot.  You  have  kept  it  too  long.  And,  after  all, 
you  cannot  escape  from  the  main  fact.  Duson  com- 
mitted suicide." 

"He  was  incited  to  murder.     His  letter  proves  it." 

The  Prince  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"By  whom?  All,  how  your  story  would  excite 
ridicule.  I  seem  to  hear  the  laughter  now.  No,  my 
dear  Souspennier,  you  would  bargain  for  me  with 
Lucille.  Look  below.  Are  we  likely  to  part  with  her 
just  yet?" 


THE     YELLOW     CRAYON 

In  a  corner,  behind  a  gigantic  palm,  Lucille  and 
Brott  were  talking  together.  Lady  Carey  had  drawn 
Opperman  a  little  distance  away.  Brott  was  talking 
eagerly,  his  cheeks  flushed,  his  manner  earnest.  Mr. 
Sabin  turned  upon  his  heel  and  walked  away. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

MR.  SABIN,  although  he  had  registered 
at  the  hotel  under  his  accustomed  pseu- 
donym, had  taken  no  pains  to  conceal 
his  identity,  and  was  well  known  to  the 
people  in  authority  about  the  place.  He  was  received 
with  all  the  respect  due  to  his  rank. 

"Your  Grace  will,  I  trust,  accept  my  most  sincere 
apologies  for  disturbing  you,"  Mr.  Hertz,  the  man- 
ager, said,  rising  and  bowing  at  his  entrance.  "We 
have  here,  however,  an  emissary  connected  with  the 
police  come  to  inquire  into  the  sad  incident  of  this 
afternoon.  He  expressed  a  wish  to  ask  your  Grace 
a  question  or  two  with  a  view  to  rendering  your 
Grace's  attendance  at  the  inquest  unnecessary." 

Mr.  Sabin  nodded. 

"I  am  perfectly  willing,"  he  said,  "to  answer  any 
questions  you  may  choose  to  put  to  me." 

A  plain,  hard-featured  little  man,  in  a  long  black 
overcoat,  and  holding  a  bowler  hat  in  his  hand,  bowed 
respectfully  to  Mr.  Sabin. 

"I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,"  he  said.  "My 
name  is  John  Passmore.  We  do  not  of  course  ap- 
pear in  this  matter  unless  the  post-mortem  should  in- 
dicate anything  unusual  in  the  circumstances  of  Du- 
son's  death,  but  it  is  always  well  to  be  prepared,  and 


244      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

I  ventured  to  ask  Mr.  Hertz  here  to  procure  for  me 
your  opinion  as  regards  the  death  of  your  ser- 
vant." 

"You  have  asked  me,"  Mr.  Sabin  said  gravely,  "a 
very  difficult  question." 

The  eyes  of  the  little  detective  flashed  keenly. 

"You  do  not  believe  then,  sir,  that  he  died  a  natural 
death?" 

"I  do  not,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered. 

Mr.  Hertz  was  startled.  The  detective  controlled 
his  features  admirably. 

"May  I  ask  your  reasons,  sir?" 

Mr.  Sabin  lightly  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  have  never  known  the  man  to  have  a  day's  ill- 
ness in  his  life,"  he  said.  "Further,  since  his  arrival 
in  England  he  has  been  acting  in  a  strange  and  fur- 
tive manner,  and  I  gathered  that  he  had  some  cause 
for  fear  which  he  was  indisposed  to  talk  about." 

"This,"  the  detective  sajd,  "is  very  interesting." 

"Doubtless,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered.  "But  before  I 
say  anything  more  I  must  clearly  understand  my 
position.  I  am  giving  you  personally  a  few  friendly 
hints,  in  the  interests  of  justice  perhaps,  but  still 
quite  informally.  I  am  not  in  possession  of  any 
definite  facts  concerning  Duson,  and  what  I  say  to 
you  here  I  am  not  prepared  to  say  at  the  inquest,  be- 
fore which  I  presume  I  may  have  to  appear  as  a  wit- 
ness. There,  I  shall  do  nothing  more  save  identify 
Duson  and  state  the  circumstances  under  which  I 
found  him." 

"I  understand  that  perfectly,  sir,"  the  man  an- 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       245 

swered.  "The  less  said  at  the  inquest  the  better  in  the 
interests  of  justice." 

Mr.  Sabin  nodded. 

"I  am  glad,"  he  said,  "that  you  appreciate  that. 
I  do  not  mind  going  so  far  then  as  to  tell  you  that 
I  believe  Duson  died  of  poison." 

"Can  you  give  me  any  idea,"  the  detective  asked, 
"as  to  the  source?" 

"None,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered.  "That  you  must 
discover  for  yourselves.  Duson  was  a  man  of  silent 
and  secretive  habits,  and  it  has  occurred  to  me  more 
than  once  that  he  might  possibly  be  a  member  of  one 
of  those  foreign  societies  who  have  their  headquarters 
in  Soho,  and  concerning  which  you  probably  know 
more  than  I  do." 

The  detective  smiled.  It  was  a  very  slight  flicker 
of  the  lips,  but  it  attracted  Mr.  Sabin's  keen  attention. 

"Your  suggestions,"  the  detective  said,  "are  mak- 
ing this  case  a  very  interesting  one.  I  have  always 
understood,  however,  that  reprisals  of  this  extreme 
nature  are  seldom  resorted  to  in  this  country.  Be- 
sides, the  man's  position  seems  scarcely  to  indicate 
sufficient  importance — perhaps " 

"Well?"  Mr.  Sabin  interjected. 

"I  notice  that  Duson  was  found  in  your  sitting- 
room.  It  occurs  to  me  as  a  possibility  that  he  may 
have  met  with  a  fate  intended  for  some  one  else — for 
yourself,  for  instance,  sir!" 

"But  I,"  Mr.  Sabin  said  smoothly,  "am  a  member 
of  no  secret  society,  nor  am  I  conscious  of  having 
enemies  sufficiently  venomous  to  desire  my  life." 


246      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

The  detective  sat  for  a  moment  with  immovable 
face. 

"We,  all  of  us,  know  our  friends,  sir,"  he  said. 
"There  are  few  of  us  properly  acquainted  with  our 
enemies." 

Mr.  Sabin  lit  a  cigarette.  His  fingers  were  quite 
steady,  but  this  man  was  making  him  think. 

"You  do  not  seriously  believe,"  he  asked,  "that 
Duson  met  with  a  death  which  was  intended  for  me?" 

"I  am  afraid,"  the  detective  said  thoughtfully, 
"that  I  know  no  more  about  it  than  you  do." 

"I  see,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "that  I  am  no  stranger 
to  you." 

"You  are  very  far  from  being  that,  sir,"  the  man 
answered.  "A  few  years  ago  I  was  working  for  the 
Government — and  you  were  not  often  out  of  my 
sight." 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled. 

"It  was  perhaps  judicious,"  he  remarked,  "though 
I  am  afraid  it  proved  of  very  little  profit  to  you. 
And  what  about  the  present  time?" 

"I  see  no  harm  in  telling  you,  sir,  that  a  general 
watch  is  kept  upon  your  movements.  Duson  was  use- 
ful to  us  .  .  .  but  now  Duson  is  dead." 

"It  is  a  fact,"  Mr.  Sabin  said  impressively,  "that 
Duson  was  a  genius.  My  admiration  for  him  con- 
tinually increases." 

"Duson  made  harmless  reports  to  us  as  we  desired 
them,"  the  detective  said.  "I  have  an  idea,  however, 
that  if  this  course  had  at  any  time  been  inimical  to 
your  interests  that  Duson  would  have  deceived  us." 


"I  am  convinced  of  it,"  Mr.  Sabin  declared. 

"And  Duson  is  dead !" 

Mr.  Sabin  nodded  gravely. 

The  little  hard-visaged  man  looked  steadily  for  a 
moment  upon  the  carpet. 

"Duson  died  virtually  whilst  accepting  pay  from 
if  not  actually  in  the  employ  of  our  Secret  Service 
Department.  You  will  understand,  therefore,  that  we, 
knowing  of  this  complication  in  his  life,  naturally  in- 
cline towards  the  theory  of  murder.  Shall  I  be  taking 
a  liberty,  sir,  if  I  give  you  an  unprofessional  word 
of  warning?" 

Mr.  Sabin  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"By  no  means,"  he  answered.  "But  surely  you 
cannot " 

The  man  smiled. 

"No,  sir,"  he  said  drily.  "I  do  not  for  one  mo- 
ment suspect  you.  The  man  was  our  spy  upon  your 
movements,  but  I  am  perfectly  aware  that  there  has 
been  nothing  worth  reporting,  and  I  also  know  that 
you  would  never  run  such  a  risk  for  the  removal  of 
so  insignificant  a  person.  No,  my  warning  comes  to 
you  from  a  different  point  of  view.  It  is,  if  you  will 
pardon  my  saying  so,  none  the  less  personal,  but 
wholly  friendly.  The  case  of  Duson  will  be  sifted  to 
the  dregs,  but  unless  I  am  greatly  mistaken,  and  I 
do  not  see  room  for  the  possibility  of  a  mistake,  I 
know  the  truth  already." 

"You  will  share  your  knowledge?"  Mr.  Sabin  asked 
quietly. 

The  detective  shook  his  head. 


248      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"You  shall  know,"  he  said,  "before  the  last  mo- 
ment. But  I  want  to  warn  you  that  when  you  do 
know  it — it  will  be  a  shock  to  you." 

Mr.  Sabin  stood  perfectly  still  for  several  moments. 
This  little  man  believed  what  he  was  saying.  He  was 
certainly  deceived.  Yet  none  the  less  Mr.  Sabin  was 
thoughtful. 

"You  do  not  feel  inclined,"  he  said  slowly,  "to  give 
me  your  entire  confidence." 

"Not  at  present,  sir,"  the  man  answered.  "You 
would  certainly  intervene,  and  my  case  would  be 
spoilt." 

Mr.  Sabin  glanced  at  the  clock. 

"If  you  care  to  call  on  me  to-morrow,"  he  said,  "I 
could  perhaps  show  you  something  which  might 
change  your  opinion." 

The  detective  bowed. 

"I  am  always  open,  sir,"  he  said,  "to  conviction.  I 
will  come  about  twelve  o'clock." 

Mr.  Sabin  went  back  to  the  palm  lounge.  Lucille 
and  Reginald  Brott  were  sitting  together  at  a  small 
table,  talking  earnestly  to  one  another.  The  Prince 
and  Lady  Carey  had  joined  another  party  who  were 
all  talking  together  near  the  entrance.  The  latter, 
directly  she  saw  them  coming,  detached  herself  from 
them  and  came  to  him. 

"Your  coffee  is  almost  cold,"  she  said,  "but  the 
Prince  has  found  some  brandy  of  wonderful  age, 
somewhere  in  the  last  century,  I  believe." 

Mr.  Sabin  glanced  towards  Lucille.  She  appeared 
engrossed  in  her  conversation,  and  had  not  noticed 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       249 

his  approach.     Lady  Carey  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"You  have  only  a  few  minutes,"  she  said,  "before 
that  dreadful  person  comes  and  frowns  us  all  out.  I 
have  kept  you  a  chair." 

Mr.  Sabin  sat  down.  Lady  Carey  interposed  her- 
self between  him  and  the  small  table  at  which  Lucille 
was  sitting. 

"Have  they  discovered  anything?"  she  asked. 

"Nothing !"  Mr.  Sabin  answered. 

She  played  with  her  fan  for  a  moment.  Then  she 
looked  him  steadily  in  the  face. 

"My  friend!" 

He  glanced  towards  her. 

"Lady  Carey!" 

"Why  are  you  so  obstinate?"  she  exclaimed  in  a 
low,  passionate  whisper.  "I  want  to  be  your  friend, 
and  I  could  be  very  useful  to  you.  Yet  you  keep  me 
always  at  arm's  length.  You  are  making  a  mistake. 
Indeed  you  are.  I  suppose  you  do  not  trust  me.  Yet 
reflect!  Have  I  ever  told  you  anything  that  was 
not  true?  Have  I  ever  tried  to  deceive  you?  I  don't 
pretend  to  be  a  paragon  of  the  virtues.  I  live  my  life 
to  please  myself.  I  admit  it.  Why  not?  It  is  simply 
applying  the  same  sort  of  philosophy  to  my  life  as 
you  have  applied  to  yours.  My  enemies  can  find 
plenty  to  say  about  me — but  never  that  I  have  been 
false  to  a  friend.  Why  do  you  keep  me  always  at 
arm's  length,  as  though  I  were  one  of  those  who  wished 
you  evil?" 

"Lady  Carey,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "I  will  not  affect 
to  misunderstand  you,  and  I  am  flattered  that  you 


250      THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

should  consider  my  good  will  of  any  importance.  But 
you  are  the  friend  of  the  Prince  of  Saxe  Leinitzer. 
You  are  one  of  those  even  now  who  are  working  active- 
ly against  me.  I  am  not  blaming  you,  but  we  are 
on  opposite  sides." 

Lady  Carey  looked  for  a  moment  across  at  the 
Prince,  and  her  eyes  were  full  of  venom. 

"If  you  knew,"  she  murmured,  "how  I  loathe  that 
man.  Friends !  That  is  all  long  since  past.  Nothing 
would  give  me  so  much  pleasure  as  never  to  see  his 
face  again." 

"Nevertheless,"  Mr.  Sabin  reminded  her,  "what- 
ever your  private  feelings  may  be,  he  has  claims  upon 
you  which  you  cannot  resist." 

"There  is  one  thing  in  the  world,"  she  said  in  a 
low  tone,  "for  which  I  would  risk  even  the  abnega- 
tion of  those  claims." 

"You  would  perjure  your  honour?" 

"Yes — if  it  came  to  that." 

Mr.  Sabin  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair.  The  woman 
was  in  earnest.  She  offered  him  an  invaluable  alli- 
ance; she  could  show  him  the  way  to  hold  his  own 
against  even  the  inimical  combination  by  which  he 
was  surrounded.  If  only  he  could  compromise.  But 
her  eyes  were  seeking  his  eagerly,  even  fiercely. 

"You  doubt  me  still,"  she  whispered.  "And  I 
thought  that  you  had  genius.  Listen,  I  will  prove 
myself.  The  Prince  has  one  of  his  foolish  passions 
for  Lucille.  You  know  that.  So  far  she  has  shown 
herself  able  to  resist  his  fascinations.  He  is  trying 
other  means.  Lucille  is  in  danger!  Duson! — but 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       251 

after  all,  I  was  never  really  in  danger,  except  the  time 
when  I  carried  the  despatches  for  the  colonel  and  rode 
straight  into  a  Boer  ambush." 

Mr.  Sabin  saw  nothing,  but  he  did  not  move  a 
muscle  of  his  face.  A  moment  later  they  heard  the 
Prince's  voice  from  behind  them. 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  he  said,  "to  interrupt  these  in- 
teresting reminiscences,  but  you  see  that  every  one  is 
going.  Lucille  is  already  in  the  cloak-room." 

Lady  Carey  rose  at  once,  but  the  glance  she  threw 
at  the  Prince  was  a  singularly  malicious  one.  They 
walked  down  the  carpeted  way  together,  and  Lady 
Carey  left  them  without  a  word.  In  the  vestibule  Mr. 
Sabin  and  Reginald  Brott  came  face  to  face. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


il  HE  greeting  between  the  two  men  was  cold, 
and  the  Prince  almost  immediately  stepped 
between  them.  Nevertheless,  Brott  seemed 
to  have  a  fancy  to  talk  with  Mr.  Sabin. 

"I  was  at  Camperdown  House  yesterday,"  he  re- 
marked. "Her  Ladyship  was  regretting  that  she  saw 
you  so  seldom." 

"I  have  been  a  little  remiss,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered. 
"I  hope  to  lunch  there  to-morrow." 

"You  have  seen  the  evening  paper,  Brott?"  the 
Prince  asked. 

"I  saw  the  early  editions,"  Brott  answered.  "Is 
there  anything  fresh?" 

The  Prince  dropped  his  voice  a  little.  He  drew 
Brott  on  one  side. 

"The  Westminster  declared  that  you  had  left  for 
Windsor  by  an  early  train  this  afternoon,  and  gives 
a  list  of  your  Cabinet.  The  Pall  Mall,  on  the  other 
hand,  declares  that  Letheringham  will  assuredly  be 
sent  for  to-morrow." 

Brott  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"There  are  bound  to  be  a  crop  of  such  reports  at 
a  time  like  this,"  he  remarked. 

The  Prince  dropped  his  voice  almost  to  a  whisper. 

"Brott,"  he  said,  "there  is  something  which  I  have 
had  it  in  my  mind  to  say  to  you  for  the  last  few 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       253 

days.  I  am  not  perhaps  a  great  politician,  but,  like 
many  outsiders,  I  see  perhaps  a  good  deal  of  the  game. 
I  know  fairly  well  what  the  feeling  is  in  Vienna  and 
Berlin.  I  can  give  you  a  word  of  advice." 

"You  are  very  kind,  Prince,"  Brott  remarked,  look- 
ing uneasily  over  his  shoulder.  "But " 

"It  is  concerning  Brand.  There  is  no  man  more 
despised  and  disliked  abroad,  not  only  because  he  is  a 
Jew  and  ill-bred,  but  because  of  his  known  sympathy 
with  some  of  these  anarchists  who  are  perfect  fire- 
brands in  Europe." 

"I  am  exceedingly  obliged  to  you,"  Brott  an- 
swered hurriedly.  "I  am  afraid,  however,  that  you 
anticipate  matters  a  good  deal.  I  have  not  yet  been 
asked  to  form  a  Cabinet.  It  is  doubtful  whether  I  ever 
shall.  And,  beyond  that,  it  is  also  doubtful  whether 
even  if  I  am  asked  I  shall  accept." 

"I  must  confess,"  the  Prince  said,  "that  you  puzzle 
me.  Every  one  says  that  the  Premiership  of  the  coun- 
try is  within  your  reach.  It  is  surely  the  Mecca  of  all 
politicians." 

"There  are  complications,"  Brott  muttered. 
"You " 

He  stopped  short  and  moved  towards  the  door.  Lu- 
cille, unusually  pale  and  grave,  had  just  issued  from 
the  ladies'  ante-room,  and  joined  Lady  Carey,  who 
was  talking  to  Mr.  Sabin.  She  touched  the  latter 
lightly  on  the  arm. 

"Help  us  to  escape,"  she  said  quickly.  "I  am 
weary  of  my  task.  Can  we  get  away  without  their 
seeing  us?" 


254      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

Mr.  Sabin  offered  his  arm.  They  passed  along  the 
broad  way,  and  as  they  were  almost  the  last  to  leave 
the  place,  their  carriage  was  easily  found.  The 
Prince  and  Mr.  Brott  appeared  only  in  time  to  see 
Mr.  Sabin  turning  away,  hat  in  hand,  from  the  curb- 
stone. Brott's  face  darkened. 

"Prince,"  he  said,  "who  is  that  man?" 

The  Prince  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"A  man,"  he  said,  "who  has  more  than  once  nearly 
ruined  your  country.  His  life  has  been  a  splendid 
failure.  He  would  have  given  India  to  the  Russians, 
but  they  mistrusted  him  and  trifled  away  their  chance. 
Once  since  then  he  nearly  sold  this  country  to  Ger- 
many; it  was  a  trifle  only  which  intervened.  He  has 
been  all  his  life  devoted  to  one  cause." 

"And  that?"  Brott  asked. 

"The  restoration  of  the  monarchy  to  France.  He, 
as  you  of  course  know,  is  the  Due  de  Souspennier, 
the  sole  living  member  in  the  direct  line  of  one  of  the 
most  ancient  and  historical  houses  in  England.  My 
friend,"  he  added,  turning  to  Mr.  Sabin,  "you  have 
stolen  a  march  upon  us.  We  had  not  even  an  oppor- 
tunity of  making  our  adieux  to  the  ladies." 

"I  imagine,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered,  "that  the  cause 
of  quarrel  may  rest  with  them.  You  were  nowhere 
in  sight  when  they  came  out." 

"These  fascinating  politics,"  the  Prince  remarked. 
"We  all  want  to  talk  politics  to  Mr.  Brott  just  now." 

"I  will  wish  you  good-night,  gentlemen,"  Mr. 
Sabin  said,  and  passed  into  the  hotel. 

The  Prince  touched  Brott  on  the  arm. 


"Will  you  come  round  to  the  club,  and  take  a  hand 
at  bridge?"  he  said. 

Brott  laughed  shortly. 

"I  imagine,"  he  said,  "that  I  should  be  an  em- 
barrassing guest  to  you  just  now  at,  say  the  Mail- 
borough,  or  even  at  the  St.  James*.  I  believe  the 
aristocracy  are  looking  forward  to  the  possibility  of 
my  coining  into  power  with  something  like  ter- 
ror." 

"I  am  not  thoroughly  versed  in  the  politics  of  this 
country,"  the  Prince  said, '"but  I  have  always  under- 
stood that  your  views  were  very  much  advanced. 
Dorset  solemnly  believes  that  you  are  pledged  to  ex- 
terminate the  large  landed  proprietors,  and  I  do  not 
think  he  would  be  surprised  to  hear  that  you  had  a 
guillotine  up  your  sleeve." 

The  two  men  were  strolling  along  Pall  Mall.  The 
Prince  had  lit  a  large  cigar,  and  was  apparently  on 
the  best  of  terms  with  himself  and  the  world  in  general. 
Brott,  on  the  contrary,  was  most  unlike  himself,  pre- 
occupied, and  apparently  ill  at  ease. 

"The  Duke  and  his  class  are,  of  course,  my  natural 
opponents,"  Brott  said  shortly.  "By  the  bye, 
Prince,"  he  added,  suddenly  turning  towards  him,  and 
with  a  complete  change  of  tone,  "it  is  within  your 
power  to  do  me  a  favour." 

"You  have  only  to  command,"  the  Prince  assured 
him  good-naturedly. 

"My  rooms  are  close  here,"  Brott  continued.  "Will 
you  accompany  me  there,  and  grant  me  the  favour 
of  a  few  minutes'  conversation?" 


856      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"Assuredly!"  the  Prince  answered,  flicking  the  end 
off  his  cigar.  "It  will  be  a  pleasure." 

They  walked  on  towards  their  destination  in  silence. 
Brott's  secretary  was  in  the  library  with  a  huge  pile 
of  letters  and  telegrams  before  him.  He  welcomed 
Brott  with  relief. 

"We  have  been  sending  all  over  London  for  you, 
sir,"  he  said. 

Brott  nodded. 

"I  am  better  out  of  the  way  for  the  present,"  he 
answered.  "Deny  me  to  everybody  for  an  hour, 
especially  Letheringham.  There  is  nothing  here,  I 
suppose,  which  cannot  wait  so  long  as  that?" 

The  secretary  looked  a  little  doubtful. 

"I  think  not,  sir,"  he  decided. 

"Very  good.  Go  and  get  something  to  eat.  You 
look  fagged.  And  tell  Hyson  to  bring  up  some 
liqueurs,  will  you!  I  shall  be  engaged  for  a  short 
time." 

The  secretary  withdrew.  A  servant  appeared  with 
a  little  tray  of  liqueurs,  and  in  obedience  to  an  im- 
patient gesture  from  his  master,  left  them  upon  the 
table.  Brott  closed  the  door  firmly. 

"Prince."  he  said,  resuming  his  seat,  "I  wished  to 
speak  with  you  concerning  the  Countess." 

Saxe  Leinitzer  nodded. 

"All  right,"  he  said.    "I  am  listening !" 

"I  understand,"  Brott  continued,  "that  you  are  one 
of  her  oldest  friends,  and  also  one  of  the  trustees  of 
her  estates.  I  presume  that  you  stand  to  her  therefore 
to  some  extent  in  the  position  of  an  adviser?" 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       257 

"It  is  perfectly  true,"  the  Prince  admitted. 

"I,  too,  am  an  old  friend,  as  she  has  doubtless  told 
you,"  Brott  said.  "All  my  life  she  has  been  the  one 
woman  whom  I  have  desired  to  call  my  wife.  That 
desire  has  never  been  so  strong  as  at  the  present  mo- 
ment." 

The  Prince  removed  his  cigar  from  his  mouth  and 
looked  grave. 

"But,  my  dear  Brott,"  he  said,  "have  you  con- 
sidered the  enormous  gulf  between  your — views  ?  The 
Countess  owns  great  hereditary  estates,  she  comes 
from  a  family  which  is  almost  Royal,  she  herself  is  an 
aristocrat  to  the  backbone.  It  is  a  class  against  which 
you  have  declared  war.  How  can  you  possibly  come 
together  on  common  ground?" 

Brott  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Looking  at  him 
steadily  the  Prince  was  surprised  at  the  change  in  the 
man's  appearance.  His  cheeks  seemed  blanched  and 
his  skin  drawn.  He  had  lost  flesh,  his  eyes  were  hol- 
low, and  he  frequently  betrayed  in  small  mannerisms 
a  nervousness  wholly  new  and  unfamiliar  to  him. 

"You  speak  as  a  man  of  sense,  Prince,"  he  said 
after  a  while.  "You  are  absolutely  correct.  This 
matter  has  caused  me  a  great  deal  of  anxious  thought. 
To  falter  at  this  moment  is  to  lose,  politically,  all  that 
I  have  worked  for  all  my  life.  It  is  to  lose  the  con- 
fidence of  the  people  who  have  trusted  me.  It  is  a 
betrayal,  the  thought  of  which  is  a  constant  shame 
to  me.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  Lucille  is  the  dearest 
thing  to  me  in  life." 

The  Prince's  expression  was  wholly  sympathetic. 


258      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

The  derision  which  lurked  behind  he  kept  wholly  con- 
cealed. A  strong  man  so  abjectly  in  the  toils,  and  he 
to  be  chosen  for  his  confidant !  It  was  melodrama  with 
a  dash  of  humour. 

"If  I  am  to  help  you,"  the  Prince  said,  "I  must 
know  eTerything.  Have  you  made  any  proposals  to 
Lucille?  In  plain  words,  how  much  of  your  political 
future  are  you  disposed  to  sacrifice?" 

"All!"  Brott  said  hoarsely.  "All  for  a  certainty 
of  her.  Not  one  jot  without." 

"And  she?" 

Brott  sprang  to  his  feet,  white  and  nervous. 

"It  is  where  I  am  at  fault,"  he  exclaimed.  "It  is 
why  I  have  asked  for  your  advice,  your  help  perhaps. 
I  do  not  find  it  easy  to  understand  Lucille.  Perhaps 
it  is  because  I  am  not  well  versed  in  the  ways  of  her 
sex.  I  find  her  elusive.  She  will  give  me  no  promise. 
Before  I  went  to  Glasgow  I  talked  with  her.  If  she 
would  have  married  me  then  my  political  career  was 
over — thrown  on  one  side  like  an  old  garment.  But 
she  would  give  me  no  promise.  In  everything  save 
the  spoken  words  I  crave  she  has  promised  me  her 
love.  Again  there  comes  a  climax.  In  a  few  hours  I 
must  make  my  final  choice.  I  must  decline  to  join 
Letheringham,  in  which  case  the  King  must  s^nd  for 
me,  or  accept  office  with  him,  and  throw  away  the  one 
great  chance  of  this  generation.  Letheringham's 
Cabinet,  of  course,  would  be  a  moderate  Liberal  one, 
a  paragon  of  milk  and  water  in  effectiveness.  If  I  go 
in  alone  we  make  history.  The  moment  of  issue  has 
come.  And,  Prince,  although  I  have  pleaded  with  all 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       259 

the  force  and  all  the  earnestness  I  know,  Lucille  re- 
mains elusive.  If  I  choose  for  her  side — she  promises 
me — reward.  But  it  is  vague  to  me.  I  don't,  I  can't 
understand!  I  want  her  for  my  wife,  I  want  her 
for  the  rest  of  my  life — nothing  else.  Tell  me,  is 
there  any  barrier  to  this?  There  are  no  complica- 
tions in  her  life  which  I  do  not  know  of?  I  want  your 
assurance.  I  want  her  premise.  You  understand 
me?" 

"Yes,  I  understand  you,"  the  Prince  said  gravely. 
"I  understand  more  than  you  do.  I  understand  Lu- 
cille's  position." 

Brott  leaned  forward  with  bright  eyes. 

"Ah !" 

"Lucille,  the  Countess  of  Radantz,  is  at  the  present 
moment  a  married  woman." 

Brott  was  speechless.  His  face  was  like  a  carved 
stone  image,  from  which  the  life  had  wholly  gone. 

"Her  husband — in  name  only,  let  me  tell  you,  is 
the  Mr.  Sabin  with  whom  we  had  supper  this  even- 
ing." 

"Great  God!" 

"Their  marriage  had  strange  features  in  it  which 
are  not  my  concern,  or  even  yours,"  the  Prince  said 
deliberately.  "The  truth  is,  that  they  have  not  lived 
together  for  years,  they  never  will  again,  for  their 
divorce  proceedings  would  long  ago  have  been  con- 
cluded but  for  the  complications  arising  from  the  dif- 
ference betiveen  the  Hungarian  and  the  American 
laws.  Here,  without  doubt,  is  the  reason  why  the 
Countess  has  hesitated  to  pledge  her  word  directly." 


260      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"It  is  wonderful,"  Brott  said  slowly.  "But  it  ex- 
plains everything." 

There  was  a  loud  knock  at  the  door.  The  secre- 
tary appeared  upon  the  threshold.  Behind  him  was  a 
tall,  slim  young  man  in  travelling  costume. 

"The  King's  messenger!"  Brott  exclaimed,  rising 
to  his  feet. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


Y  "^  HE  Prince  presented  himself  with  a  low  bow. 
Lucille  had  a  copy  of  the  morning  paper 
in  her  hand. 

"I  congratulate  you,  Countess,"  he  said. 
"You  progress  admirably.    It  is  a  great  step  gained." 

Lucille,  who  was  looking  pale  and  nervous,  re- 
garded him  with  anxiety. 

"A  step!  But  it  is  everything.  If  these  rumours 
are  true,  he  refuses  the  attempt  to  form  a  Cabinet. 
He  takes  a  subordinate  position  under  Letheringham. 
Every  paper  this  morning  says  that  if  this  is  so  his 
political  career  is  over.  It  is  true,  is  it  not?" 

"It  is  a  great  gain,"  the  Prince  said  slowly. 

"But  it  is  everything,"  Lucille  declared,  with  a 
rising  note  of  passion  in  her  tone.  "It  was  my  task. 
It  is  accomplished.  I  demand  my  release." 

The  Prince  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"You  are  in  a  great  hurry,  Lucille,"  he  said. 

"What  if  I  am!"  she  replied  fiercely.  "Do  you 
suppose  that  this  life  of  lies  and  deceit  is  pleasant 
to  me?  Do  you  suppose  that  it  is  a  pleasant  task  to 
lure  a  brave  man  on  to  his  ruin?" 

The  Prince  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "you  can  have  no  sympathy  with 
Reginald  Brott,  the  sworn  enemy  of  our  class,  a  So- 
cialist, a  demagogue  who  would  parcel  out  our  lands 


in  allotments,  a  man  who  has  pledged  himself  to  noth- 
ing more  nor  less  than  a  revolution." 

"The  man's  views  are  hateful  enough,"  she  an- 
swered, "but  he  is  in  earnest,  and  however  misguided 
he  may  be  there  is  something  noble  in  his  unselfishness, 
in  his  steady  fixedness  of  purpose." 

The  Prince's  face  indicated  his  contempt. 

"Such  men,"  he  declared,  "are  only  fit  to  be  crashed 
like  vermin  under  foot.  In  any  other  country  save 
England  we  should  have  dealt  with  him  differently." 

"This  is  all  beside  the  question,"  she  declared.  "My 
task  was  to  prevent  his  becoming  Prime  Minister,  and 
I  have  succeeded." 

The  Prince  gave  vent  to  a  little  gesture  of  dissent. 

"Your  task,"  he  said,  "went  a  little  farther  than 
that.  We  require  his  political  ruin." 

She  pointed  to  the  pile  of  newspapers  upon  the 
table. 

"Read  what  they  say!"  she  exclaimed.  "There  is 
not  one  who  does  not  use  that  precise  term.  He  has 
missed  his  opportunity.  The  people  will  never  trust 
him  again." 

"That,  at  any  rate,  is  not  certain,"  the  Prince  said. 
"You  must  remember  that  before  long  he  will  realise 
that  he  has  been  your  tool.  What  then?  He  will  be- 
come more  rabid  than  ever,  more  also  to  be  feared.  No, 
Lucille,  your  task  is  not  yet  over.  He  must  be  in- 
volved in  an  open  and  public  scandal,  and  with  you." 

She  was  white  almost  to  the  lips  with  passion. 

"You  expect  a  great  deal!"  she  exclaimed.  "You 
expect  me  to  ruin  my  life,  then,  to  give  my  honour 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       263 

as  well  as  these  weary  months,  this  constant  humilia- 
tion." 

"You  are  pleased  to  be  melodramatic,"  he  said 
coldly.  "It  is  quite  possible  to  involve  him  without 
actually  going  to  extremes." 

"And  what  of  my  husband?"  she  asked. 

The  Prince  laughed  unpleasantly. 

"If  you  have  not  taught  him  complaisance,"  he 
said,  "it  is  possible,  of  course,  that  Mr.  Sabin  might 
be  unkind.  But  what  of  it?  You  are  your  own  mis- 
tress. You  are  a  woman  of  the  world.  Without  him 
there  is  an  infinitely  greater  future  before  you  than 
as  his  wife  you  could  ever  enjoy." 

"You  are  pleased,"  she  said,  "to  be  enigmatic." 

The  Prince  looked  hard  at  her.  Her  face  was  white 
and  set.  He  sighed. 

"Lucille,"  he  said,  "I  have  been  very  patient  for 
many  years.  Yet  you  know  very  well  my  secret,  and 
in  your  heart  you  know  very  well  that  I  am  one  of 
those  who  generally  win  the  thing  upon  which  they 
have  set  their  hearts.  I  have  always  loved  you,  Lu- 
cille, but  never  more  than  now.  Fidelity  is  admirable, 
but  surely  you  have  done  your  duty.  He  is  an  old 
man,  and  a  man  who  has  failed  in  the  great  things  of 
life.  I,  on  the  other  hand,  can  offer  you  a  great  fu- 
ture. Saxe  Leinitzer,  as  you  know,  is  a  kingdom  of 
its  own,  and,  Lucille,  I  stand  well  with  the  Emperor. 
The  Socialist  party  in  Berlin  are  strong  and  increas- 
ing. He  needs  us.  Who  can  say  what  honours  may 
not  be  in  store  for  us?  For  I,  too,  am  of  the  Royal 
House,  Lucille.  I  am  his  kinsman.  He  never  forgets 


264      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

that.  Come,  throw  aside  this  restlessness.  I  will  tell 
you  how  to  deal  with  Brott,  and  the  publicity,  after 
all,  will  be  nothing.  We  will  go  abroad  directly  after- 
wards." 

"Have  you  finished?"  she  asked. 

"You  will  be  reasonable !"  he  begged. 

"Reasonable !"  She  turned  upon  him  with  flashing 
eyes.  "I  wonder  how  you  ever  dared  to  imagine  that 
I  could  tolerate  you  for  one  moment  as  a  lover  or  a 
husband.  Wipe  it  out  of  your  mind  once  and  for  all. 
You  are  repellent  to  me.  Positively  the  only  wish  I 
have  in  connection  with  you  is  never  to  see  your  face 
again.  As  for  my  duty,  I  have  done  it.  My  con- 
science is  clear.  I  shall  leave  this  house  to-day." 

"I  hope,"  the  Prince  said  softly,  "that  you  will  do 
nothing  rash !" 

"In  an  hour,"  she  said,  "I  shall  be  at  the  Carlton 
with  my  husband.  I  will  trust  to  him  to  protect  me 
from  you." 

The  Prince  shook  his  head. 

"You  talk  rashly,"  he  said.  "You  do  not  think. 
You  are  forbidden  to  leave  this  house.  You  are  for- 
bidden to  join  your  husband." 

She  laughed  scornfully,  but  underneath  was  a 
tremor  of  uneasiness. 

"You  summoned  me  from  America,"  she  said,  "and 
I  came.  ...  I  was  forced  to  leave  my  husband 
without  even  a  word  of  farewell.  I  did  it!  You  set 
me  a  task — I  have  accomplished  it.  I  claim  that  I 
have  kept  my  bond,  that  I  have  worked  out  my  own 
freedom.  If  you  require  more  of  me,  I  say  that  you 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       265 

are  overstepping  your  authority,  and  I  refuse.  Set 
the  black  cross  against  my  name  if  you  will.  I  will 
take  the  risk." 

The  Prince  came  a  little  nearer  to  her.  She  held 
her  own  bravely  enough,  but  there  was  a  look  in  his 
face  which  terrified  her. 

"Lucille,"  he  said,  "you  force  me  to  disclose  some- 
thing which  I  have  kept  so  far  to  myself.  I  wished 
to  spare  you  anxiety,  but  you  must  understand  that 
your  safety  depends  upon  your  remaining  in  this 
house,  and  in  keeping  apart  from  all  association  with 
— your  husband." 

"You  will  find  it  difficult,"  she  said,  "to  convince 
me  of  that." 

"On  the  contrary,"  he  said,  "I  shall  find  it  easy — 
too  easy,  believe  me.  You  will  remember  my  finding 
you  at  the  wine-shop  of  Emil  Sachs?" 

"Yes !" 

"You  refused  to  tell  me  the  object  of  your  visit. 
It  was  foolish,  for  of  course  I  was  informed.  You 
procured  from  Emil  a  small  quantity  of  the  powder 
prepared  according  to  the  recipe  of  Herr  Esten- 
trauzen,  and  for  which  we  paid  him  ten  thousand 
marks.  It  is  the  most  silent,  the  most  secret,  the  most 
swift  poison  yet  discovered." 

"I  got  it  for  myself,"  she  said  coldly.  "There  have 
been  times  when  I  have  felt  that  the  possession  of 
something  of  that  sort  was  an  absolute  necessity." 

"I  do  not  question  you  as  to  the  reason  for  your 
getting  it,"  he  answered.  "Very  shortly  afterwards 
you  left  your  carriage  in  Pall  Mall,  and  without  even 


266      THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

asking  for  your  husband  you  called  at  his  hotel — you 
stole  up  into  his  room." 

"I  took  some  roses  there  and  left  them,"  she  said. 
"What  of  that?" 

"Only  that  you  were  the  last  person  seen  to  enter 
Mr.  Sabin's  rooms  before  Duson  was  found  there 
dead.  And  Duson  died  from  a  dose  of  that  same 
poison,  a  packet  of  which  you  procured  secretly  from 
Emil  Sachs.  An  empty  wineglass  was  by  his  side — 
it  was  one  generally  used  by  Mr.  Sabin.  I  know  that 
the  English  police,  who  are  not  so  foolish  as  people 
would  have  one  believe,  are  searching  now  for  the 
woman  who  was  seen  to  enter  the  sitting-room  shortly 
before  Mr.  Sabin  returned  and  found  Duson  there 
dead." 

She  laughed  scornfully. 

"It  is  ingenious,"  she  admitted,  "and  perhaps  a 
little  unfortunate  for  me.  But  the  inference  is 
ridiculous.  What  interest  had  I  in  the  man's  death?" 

"None,  of  course !"  the  Prince  said.  "But,  Lucille, 
in  all  cases  of  poisoning  it  is  the  wife  of  whom  one 
first  thinks !" 

"The  wife?  I  did  not  even  know  that  the  crea- 
ture had  a  wife." 

"Of  course  not!  But  Duson  drank  from  Mr. 
Sabin's  glass,  and  you  are  Mr.  Sabin's  wife.  You 
are  living  apart  from  him.  He  is  old  and  you  are 
young.  And  for  the  other  man — there  is  Reginald 
Brott.  Your  names  have  been  coupled  together,  of 
course.  See  what  an  excellent  case  stands  there.  You 
procure  the  poison — secretly.  You  make  your  way 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       267 

to  your  husband's  room — secretly.  The  fatal  dose 
is  taken  from  your  husband's  wineglass.  You  leave 
no  note,  no  message.  The  poison  of  which  the  man 
died  is  exactly  the  same  as  you  procured  from  Sachs. 
Lucille,  after  all,  do  you  wonder  that  the  police  are 
looking  for  a  woman  in  black  with  an  ermine  toque? 
What  a  mercy  you  wore  a  thick  veil !" 

She  sat  down  suddenly. 

"This  is  hideous,"  she  said. 

"Think  it  over,"  he  said,  "step  by  step.  It  is  won- 
derful how  all  the  incidents  dovetail  into  one  an- 
other." 

"Too  wonderful,"  she  cried.  "It  sounds  like  some 
vile  plot  to  incriminate  me.  How  much  had  you  to 
do  with  this,  Prince?" 

"Don't  be  a  fool!"  he  answered  roughly.  "Can't 
you  see  for  yourself  that  your  arrest  would  be  the 
most  terrible  thing  that  could  happen  for  us?  Even 
Sachs  might  break  down  in  cross-examination,  and 
you— well,  you  are  a  woman,  and  you  want  to  live. 
We  should  all  be  in  the  most  deadly  peril.  Lucille, 
I  would  have  spared  you  this  anxiety  if  I  could,  but 
your  defiance  made  it  necessary.  There  was  no  other 
way  of  getting  you  away  from  England  to-night  ex- 
cept by  telling  you  the  truth." 

"Away  from  England  to-night,"  she  repeated 
vaguely.  "But  I  will  not  go.  It  is  impossible." 

'"It  is  imperative,"  the  Prince  declared,  with  a  sharp 
ring  of  authority  in  his  tone.  "It  is  your  own  folly, 
for  which  you  have  to  pay.  You  went  secretly  to  Emil 
Sachs.  You  paid  surreptitious  visits  to  your  hus- 


268      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

band,  which  were  simply  madness.  You  have  involved 
us  all  in  danger.  For  our  own  sakes  we  must  see  that 
you  are  removed." 

"It  is  the  very  thing  to  excite  suspicion — flight 
abroad,"  she  objected. 

"Your  flight,"  he  said  coolly,  "will  be  looked  upon 
from  a  different  point  of  view,  for  Reginald  Brott 
must  follow  you.  It  will  be  an  elopement,  not  a  flight 
from  justice." 

"And  in  case  I  should  decline?"  Lucille  asked 
quietly. 

The  Prince  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Well,  we  have  done  the  best  we  can  for  ourselves," 
he  said.  "Come,  I  will  be  frank  with  you.  There  are 
great  interests  involved  here,  and,  before  all  things, 
I  have  had  to  consider  the  welfare  of  our  friends. 
That  is  my  duty !  Emil  Sachs  by  this  time  is  beyond 
risk  of  detection.  He  has  left  behind  a  letter,  in  which 
he  confesses  that  he  has  for  some  time  supplemented 
the  profits  of  his  wine-shop  by  selling  secretly  certain 
deadly  poisons  of  his  own  concoctions.  Alarmed  at 
reading  of  the  death  of  Duson  immediately  after  he 
had  sold  a  poison  which  the  symptoms  denoted  he  had 
fled  the  country.  That  letter  is  in  the  hands  of  the 
woman  who  remains  in  the  wine-shop,  and  will  only  be 
used  in  case  of  necessity.  By  other  means  we  have 
dissociated  ourselves  from  Duson  and  all  connection 
with  him.  I  think  I  could  go  so  far  as  to  say  that -it 
would  be  impossible  to  implicate  us.  Our  sole  anxiety 
now,  therefore,  is  to  save  you." 

Lucille  rose  to  her  feet. 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       269 

"I  shall  go  at  once  to  my  husband,"  she  said.  "I 
shall  tell  him  everything.  I  shall  act  on  his  advice." 

The  Prince  stood  over  by  the  door,  and  she  heard 
the  key  turn. 

"You  will  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  he  said  quietly. 
"You  are  in  my  power  at  last,  Lucille.  You  will  do 
my  bidding,  or " 

"Or  what?" 

"I  shall  myself  send  for  the  police  and  give  you 
into  custody !" 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


W  |  ^HE  Prince  crossed  the  hall  and  entered  the 
morning-room.  Felix  was  there  and  Raoul 
de  Brouillac.  The  Duchess  sat  at  her  writ- 
-  ing-table,  scribbling  a  note.  Lady  Carey, 
in  a  wonderful  white  serge  costume,  and  a  huge  bunch 
of  Neapolitan  violets  at  her  bosom,  was  lounging  in 
an  easy-chair,  swinging  her  foot  backwards  and  for- 
wards. The  Duke,  in  a  very  old  tweed  coat,  but  im- 
maculate as  to  linen  and  the  details  of  his  toilet,  stood 
a  little  apart,  with  a  frown  upon  his  forehead,  and  ex- 
actly that  absorbed  air  which  in  the  House  of  Lords 
usually  indicated  his  intention  to  make  a  speech.  The 
entrance  of  the  Prince,  who  carefully  closed  the  door 
behind  him,  was  an  event  for  which  evidently  they 
were  all  waiting. 

"My  good  people,"  he  said  blandly,  "I  wish  you 
all  a  very  good-morning." 

There  was  a  little  murmur  of  greetings,  and  before 
they  had  all  subsided  the  Duke  spoke. 

"Saxe  Leinitzer,"  he  said,  "I  have  a  few  questions 
to  ask  you." 

The  Prince  looked  across  the  room  at  him. 

"By  all  means,  Duke,"  he  said.  "But  is  the  present 
an  opportune  time?" 

"Opportune  or  no,  it  is  the  time  which  I  have 
selected,"  the  Duke  answered  stiffly.  "I  do  not  alto- 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       271 

gether  understand  what  is  going  on  in  this  house.  I 
am  beginning  to  wonder  whether  I  have  been  misled." 

The  Prince,  as  he  twirled  his  fair  moustache, 
glanced  carelessly  enough  across  at  the  Duchess.  She 
was  looking  the  other  way. 

"I  became  a — er — general  member  of  this  Society," 
the  Duke  continued,  "sympathising  heartily  with  its 
objects  as  explained  to  me  by  you,  Prince,  and  be- 
lieving, although  to  confess  it  is  somewhat  of  a  humil- 
iation, that  a  certain  amount  of — er — combination 
amongst  the  aristocracy  has  become  necessary  to  re- 
sist the  terrible  increase  of  Socialism  which  we  must 
all  so  much  deplore." 

"You  are  not  making  a  speech,  dear,"  the  Duchess 
remarked,  looking  coldly  across  the  room  at  him. 
"We  are  all  anxious  to  hear  what  the  Prince  has  to 
say  to  us." 

"Your  anxiety,"  the  Duke  continued,  "and  the 
anxiety  of  our  friends  must  be  restrained  for  a  few 
minutes,  for  there  are  certain  things  which  I  am  de- 
termined to  say,  and  to  say  them  now.  I  must  con- 
fess that  it  was  at  first  a  painful  shock  to  me  to  realise 
that  the  time  had  come  when  it  was  necessary  for  us 
to  take  any  heed  of  the  uneducated  rabble  who  seem 
born  into  the  world  discontented  with  their  station  in 
life,  and  instead  of  making  honest  attempts  to  im- 
prove it  waste  their  time  railing  against  us  who  are 
more  fortunately  placed,  and  in  endeavours  to  mislead 
in  every  possible  way  the  electorate  of  the  country." 

The  Prince  sighed  softly,  and  lit  a  cigarette.  Lady 
Carey  and  Felix  were  already  smoking. 


272      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"However,"  the  Duke  continued,  "I  was  convinced. 
I  have  always  believed  in  the  principle  of  watching 
closely  the  various  signs  of  the  times,  and  I  may  say 
that  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  a  combination  of 
the  thinking  members  of  the  aristocratic  party 
throughout  the  world  was  an  excellent  idea.  I  there- 
fore became  what  is,  I  believe,  called  a  general  mem- 
ber of  the  Order,  of  which  I  believe  you,  Prince,  are 
the  actual  head." 

"My  dear  James,"  the  Duchess  murmured,  "the 
Prince  has  something  to  say  to  us." 

"The  Prince,"  her  husband  answered  coldly,  "can 
keep  back  his  information  for  a  few  minutes.  I  am 
determined  to  place  my  position  clearly  before  all  of 
you  who  are  present  here  now.  It  is  only  since  I  have 
joined  this  Society  that  I  have  been  made  aware  that 
in  addition  to  the  general  members,  of  which  body  I 
believe  that  the  Duchess  and  I  are  the  sole  representa- 
tives here,  there  are  special  members,  and  members  of 
the  inner  circle.  And  I  understand  that  in  connection 
with  these  there  is  a  great  machinery  of  intrigue  going 
on  all  the  time,  with  branches  all  over  the  world,  spies 
everywhere  with  unlimited  funds,  and  with  huge  op- 
portunities of  good  or  evil.  In  effect  I  have  become 
an. outside  member  of  what  is  nothing  more  nor  less 
than  a  very  powerful  and,  it  seems  to  me,  daring  secret 
society." 

"So  far  as  you  are  concerned,  Duke,"  the  Prince 
said,  "your  responsibility  ceases  with  ordinary  mem- 
bership. You  can  take  no  count  of  anything  beyond. 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       273 

The  time  may  come  when  the  inner  circle  may  be 
opened  to  you." 

The  Duke  coughed. 

"You  misapprehend  me,"  he  said.  "I  can  assure 
you  I  am  not  anxious  for  promotion.  On  the  con- 
trary, I  stand  before  you  an  aggrieved  person.  I 
have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  my  house,  and  the 
shelter  of  my  wife's  name,  have  been  used  for  a  plot, 
the  main  points  of  which  have  been  kept  wholly  secret 
from  me." 

The  Prince  flicked  his  cigarette  ash  into  the  grate. 

"My  dear  Dorset,"  he  said  gently,  "if  you  will 
allow  me  to  explain " 

"I  thank  you,  Saxe  Leinitzer,"  the  Duke  said 
coldly,  "but  it  is  beginning  to  occur  to  me  that  I  have 
had  enough  of  your  explanations.  It  seemed  natural 
enough  to  me,  and  I  must  say  well  conceived,  that 
some  attempt  should  be  made  to  modify  the  views  of, 
if  not  wholly  convert,  Reginald  Brott  by  means  of  the 
influence  of  a  very  charming  woman.  It  was  my  duty 
as  a  member  of  the  Order  to  assist  in  this,  and  the 
shelter  of  my  house  and  name  were  freely  accorded  to 
the  Countess.  But  it  is  news  to  me  to  find  that  she 
was  brought  here  practically  by  force.  That  because 
she  was  an  inner  member  and  therefore  bound  to  im- 
plicit obedience  that  she  was  dragged  away  from  her 
husband,  kept  apart  from  him  against  her  will,  forced 
into  endeavours  to  make  a  fool  of  Brott  even  at  the 
cost  of  her  good  name.  And  now,  worst  of  all,  I  am 
told  that  a  very  deeply  laid  plot  on  the  part  of  some 


274       THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

of  you  will  compel  her  to  leave  England  almost  at 
once,  and  that  her  safety  depends  upon  her  inducing 
Reginald  Brott  to  accompany  her." 

"She  has  appealed  to  you,"  the  Prince  muttered. 

"She  has  done  nothing  so  sensible,"  the  Duke  an- 
swered drily.  "The  facts  which  I  have  just  stated 
are  known  to  every  one  in  this  room.  I  perhaps  know 
less  than  any  one.  But  I  know  enough  for  this.  I 
request,  Saxe  Leinitzer,  that  you  withdraw  the  name 
of  myself  and  my  wife  from  your  list  of  members,  and 
that  you  understand  clearly  that  my  house  is  to  be  no 
more  used  for  meetings  of  the  Society,  formal  or  in- 
formal. And,  further,  though  I  regret  the  apparent 
inhospitality  of  my  action,  my  finger  is  now,  as  you 
see,  upon  the  bell,  and  I  venture  to  wish  you  all  a  very 
good-morning.  Groves,"  he  added  to  the  servant  who 
answered  the  door,  "the  Prince  of  Saxe  Leinitzer's 
carriage  is  urgently  required." 

The  Prince  and  Lady  Carey  descended  the  broad 
steps  side  by  side.  She  was  laughing  softly  but  im- 
moderately. The  Prince  was  pale  with  fury. 

"Pompous  old  ass,"  he  muttered  savagely.  "He 
may  have  a  worse  scandal  in  his  house  now  than  he 
dreams  of." 

She  wiped  her  eyes. 

"Have  I  not  always  told  you,"  she  said,  "that  in- 
trigue in  this  country  was  a  sheer  impossibility  ?  You 
may  lay  your  plans  ever  so  carefully,  but  you  cannot 
foresee  such  a  contretemps  as  this." 

"Idiot!"  the  Prince  cried.  "Oh,  the  dolt!  Why, 
even  his  wife  was  amazed." 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       275 

"He  may  be  all  those  pleasant  things,"  Lady  Carey 
said,  "but  he  is  a  gentleman." 

He  stopped  short.  The  footman  was  standing  by 
the  side  of  Lady  Carey's  victoria  with  a  rug  on  his 
arm. 

"Lucille,"  he  said  thoughtfully,  "is  locked  in  the 
morning-room.  She  is  prostrate  with  fear.  If  the 
Duke  sees  her  everything  is  over.  Upon  my  word,  I 
have  a  good  mind  to  throw  this  all  up  and  cross  to 
Paris  to-night.  Let  England  breed  her  own  revoju- 
tions.  What  do  you  say,  Muriel?  Will  you  come 
with  me?" 

She  laughed  scornfully. 

"I'd  as  soon  go  with  my  coachman,"  she  said. 

His  eyebrows  narrowed.  A  dull,  purple  flush  crept 
to  his  forehead. 

"Your  wit,"  he  said,  "is  a  little  coarse.  Listen! 
You  wish  our  first  plan  to  go  through?" 

"Of  course!" 

"Then  you  must  get  Lucille  out  of  that  house.  If 
she  is  left  there  she  is  absolutely  lost  to  us.  Apart 
from  that,  she  is  herself  not  safe.  Our  plan  worked 
out  too  well.  She  is  really  in  danger  from  this  Duson 
affair." 

The  laughter  died  away  from  Lady  Carey's  face. 
She  hesitated  with  her  foot  upon  the  step  of  her 
carriage. 

"You  can  go  back  easily  enough,"  the  Prince  said. 
"You  are  the  Duke's  cousin,  and  you  were  not  in- 
cluded in  his  tirade.  Lucille  is  in  the  morning-room, 
and  here  is  the  key.  I  brought  it  away  with  me. 


276      THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

You  must  tell  her  that  all  our  plans  are  broken,  that 
we  have  certain  knowledge  that  the  police  are  on  the 
track  of  this  Duson  affair.  Get  her  to  your  house  in 
Pont  Street,  and  I  will  be  round  this  afternoon.  Or 
better  still,  take  her  to  mine." 

Lady  Carey  stepped  back  on  to  the  pavement.  She 
was  still,  however,  hesitating. 

"Leave  her  with  the  Duke  and  Duchess,"  the  Prince 
said,  "and  she  will  dine  with  her  husband  to-night." 

Lady  Carey  took  the  key  from  his  hand. 

"I  will  try,"  she  said.  "How  shall  you  know 
whether  I  succeed?" 

"I  will  wait  in  the  gardens,"  he  answered.  "I  shall 
be  out  of  sight,  but  I  shall  be  able  to  see  you  come 
out.  If  you  are  alone  I  shall  come  to  you.  If  she  is 
with  you  I  shall  be  at  your  house  in  an  hour,  and  I 
promise  you  that  she  shall  leave  England  to-night 
with  me." 

"Poor  Brott!"  she  murmured  ironically. 

The  Prince  smiled. 

"He  will  follow  her.  Every  one  will  believe  that 
they  left  London  together.  That  is  all  that  is  re- 
quired." 

Lady  Carey  re-entered  the  house.  The  Prince 
made  his  way  into  the  gardens.  Ten  minutes  passed 
— a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Then  Lady  Carey  with  Lu- 
cille reappeared,  and  stepping  quickly  into  the  vic- 
toria were  driven  away.  The  Prince  drew  a  little  sigh 
of  relief.  He  looked  at  his  watch,  called  a  hansom, 
and  drove  to  his  club  for  lunch. 

Another  man,  who  had  also  been  watching  Dorset 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       277 

House  from  the  gardens  for  several  hours,  also  noted 
Lucille's  advent  with  relief.  He  followed  the  Prince 
out  and  entered  another  hansom. 

"Follow  that  victoria  which  has  just  driven  off," 
he  ordered.  "Don't  lose  sight  of  it.  Double  fare." 

The  trap-door  fell,  and  the  man  whipped  up  his 
horse. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

MR.  SABIN  received  an  early  visitor  whilst 
still  lingering  over  a  slight  but  elegant 
breakfast.  Passmore  seated  himself  in 
an  easy-chair  and  accepted  the  cigar 
which  his  host  himself  selected  for  him. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  Mr.  Sabin  said.  "This 
affair  of  Duson's  remains  a  complete  mystery  to  me. 
I  am  looking  to  you  to  help  me  solve  it." 

The  little  man  with  the  imperturbable  face  removed 
his  cigar  from  his  mouth  and  contemplated  it  stead- 
fastly. 

"It  is  mysterious,"  he  said.  "There  are  circum- 
stances in  connection  with  it  which  even  now  puzzle 
me  very  much,  very  much  indeed.  There  are  circum- 
stances in  connection  with  it  also  which  I  fear  may 
be  a  shock  to  you,  sir." 

"My  life,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  with  a  faint  smile,  "has 
been  made  up  of  shocks.  A  few  more  or  less  may  not 
hurt  me." 

"Duson,"  the  detective  said,  "was  at  heart  a  faith- 
ful servant!" 

"I  believe  it,"  Mr.  Sabin  said. 

"He  was  much  attached  to  you !" 

"I  believe  it." 

"It  is  possible  that  unwittingly — he  died  for  you." 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       279 

Mr.  Sabin  was  silent.  It  was  his  way  of  avoiding 
a  confession  of  surprise.  And  he  was  surprised. 

"You  believe  then,"  he  said,  "after  a  moment's 
pause,  "that  the  poison  was  intended  for  me?" 

"Certainly  I  do,"  the  detective  answered.  "Duson 
was,  after  all,  a  valet,  a  person  of  little  importance. 
There  is  no  one  to  whom  his  removal  could  have  been 
of  sufficient  importance  to  justify  such  extreme  meas- 
ures. With  you  it  is  different." 

Mr.  Sabin  knocked  the  ash  from  his  cigarette. 

"Why  not  be  frank  with  me,  Mr.  Passmore?"  he 
said.  "There  is  no  need  to  shelter  yourself  under 
professional  reticence.  Your  connection  with  Scot- 
land Yard  ended,  I  believe,  some  time  ago.  You  are 
free  to  speak  or  to  keep  silence.  Do  one  or  the  other. 
Tell  me  what  you  think,  and  I  will  tell  you  what  I 
know.  That  surely  will  be  a  fair  exchange.  You 
shall  have  my  facts  for  your  surmises." 

Passmore's  thin  lips  curled  into  a  smile. 

"You  know  that  I  have  left  Scotland  Yard  then, 
sir?" 

"Quite  well!  You  are  employed  by  them  often,  I 
believe,  but  you  are  not  on  the  staff,  not  since  the 
affair  of  Nerman  and  the  code  book." 

If  Passmore  had  been  capable  of  reverence,  his  eyes 
looked  it  at  that  moment. 

"You  knew  this  last  night,  sir?" 

"Certainly !" 

"Five  years  ago,  sir,"  he  said,  "I  told  my  chief 
that  in  you  the  detective  police  of  the  world  had  lost 
one  who  must  have  been  their  kins;.  More  and  more 


280      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

you  convince  me  of  it.  I  cannot  believe  that  you  are 
ignorant  of  the  salient  points  concerning  Duson's 
death." 

"Treat  me  as  being  so,  at  any  rate,"  Mr.  Sabin 
said. 

"I  am  pardoned,"  Passmore  said,  "for  speaking 
plainly  of  family  matters — my  concern  in  which  is  of 
course  purely  professional?" 

Mr.  Sabin  looked  up  for  a  moment,  but  he  signified 
his  assent. 

"You  left  America,"  Passmore  said,  "in  search  of 
your  wife,  formerly  Countess  of  Radantz,  who  had 
left  you  unexpectedly." 

"It  is  true !"  Mr.  Sabin  answered. 

"Madame  la  Duchesse  on  reaching  London  became 
the  guest  of  the  Duchess  of  Dorset,  where  she  has  been 
staying  since.  Whilst  there  she  has  received  many 
visits  from  Mr.  Reginald  Brott.  " 

Mr.  Sabin's  face  was  as  the  face  of  a  sphinx.  He 
made  no  sign. 

"You  do  not  waste  your  time,  sir,  over  the  Society 
papers.  Yet  you  have  probably  heard  that  Madame 
la  Duchesse  and  Mr.  Reginald  Brott  have  been  written 
about  and  spoken  about  as  intimate  friends.  They 
have  been  seen  together  everywhere.  Gossip  has  been 
busy  with  their  names.  Mr.  Brott  has  followed  the 
Countess  into  circles  which  before  her  coming  he  zeal- 
ously eschewed.  The  Countess  is  everywhere  regarded 
as  a  widow,  and  a  marriage  has  been  confidently 
spoken  of." 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYOX       281 

Mr.  Sabin  bowed  his  head  slightly.  But  of  ex- 
pression there  was  in  his  face  no  sign. 

"These  things,"  Passmore  continued,  "are  common 
knowledge.  I  have  spoken  up  to  now  of  nothing 
which  is  not  known  to  the  world.  I  proceed  differ- 
ently." 

"Good!"  Mr.  Sabin  said. 

"There  is,"  Passmore  continued,  "in  the  foreign 
district  of  London  a  man  named  Emil  Sachs,  who 
keeps  a  curious  sort  of  a  wine-shop,  and  supplements 
his  earnings  by  disposing  at  a  high  figure  of  certain 
rare  and  deadly  poisons.  A  few  days  ago  the  Coun- 
tess visited  him  and  secured  a  small  packet  of  the  most 
deadly  drug  the  man  possesses." 

Mr.  Sabin  sat  quite  still.     He  was  unmoved. 

"The  Countess,"  Passmore  continued,  "shortly  af- 
terwards visited  these  rooms.  An  hour  after  her  de- 
parture Duson  was  dead.  He  died  from  drinking 
out  of  your  liqueur  glass,  into  which  a  few  specks 
of  that  powder,  invisible  almost  to  the  naked  eye,  had 
been  dropped.  At  Dorset  House  Reginald  Brott  was 
waiting  for  her.  He  left  shortly  afterwards  in  a  state 
of  agitation." 

"And  from  these  things,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "you 
draw,  I  presume,  the  natural  inference  that  Madame 
la  Duchesse,  desiring  to  marry  her  old  admirer,  Regi- 
nald Brott,  first  left  me  in  America,  and  then,  since 
I  followed  her  here,  attempted  to  poison  me?" 

"There  is,"  Passmore  said,  "a  good  deal  of  evidence 
to  that  effect." 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"Here,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  handing  him  Duson's  let- 
ter, "is  some  evidence  to  the  contrary." 

Passmore  read  the  letter  carefully. 

"You  believe  this,"  he  asked,  "to  be  genuine?" 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled. 

"I  am  sure  of  it !"  he  answered. 

"You  recognise  the  handwriting?" 

"Certainly!" 

"And  this  came  into  your  possession — how?" 

"I  found  it  on  the  table  by  Duson's  side." 

"You  intend  to  produce  it  at  the  inquest?" 

"I  think  not,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered. 

There  was  a  short  silence.  Passmore  was  revolving 
a  certain  matter  in  his  mind — thinking  hard.  Mr. 
Sabin  was  apparently  trying  to  make  rings  of  the  blue 
smoke  from  his  cigarette. 

"Has  it  occurred  to  you,"  Passmore  asked,  "to  won- 
der for  what  reason  your  wife  visited  these  rooms  on 
the  morning  of  Duson's  death?" 

Mr.  Sabin  shook  his  head. 

"I  cannot  say  that  it  has." 

"She  knew  that  you  were  not  here,"  Passmore  con- 
tinued. "She  left  no  message.  She  came  closely 
veiled  and  departed  unrecognised." 

Mr.  Sabin  nodded. 

"There  were  reasons,"  he  said,  "for  that.  But 
when  you  say  that  she  left  no  message  you  are  mis- 
taken." 

Passmore  nodded. 

"Go  on,"  he  said. 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       283 

Mr.  Sabin  nodded  towards  a  great  vase  of  La 
France  roses  upon  a  side  table. 

"I  found  these  here  on  my  return,"  he  said,  "and 
attached  to  them  the  card  which  I  believe  is  still  there. 
Go  and  look  at  it." 

Passmore  rose  and  bent  over  the  fragrant  blossoms. 
The  card  still  remained,  and  on  the  back  of  it,  in  a 
delicate  feminine  handwriting: 

"For  my  husband, 

"with  love  from 

"LUCILLE." 

Mr.  Passmore  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  had  not 
the  vice  of  obstinacy,  and  he  knew  when  to  abandon 
a  theory. 

"I  am  corrected,"  he  said.  "In  any  case,  a  mys- 
tery remains  as  well  worth  solving.  Who  are  these 
people,  at  whose  instigation  Duson  was  to  have  mur- 
dered you — these  people  whom  Duson  feared  so  much 
that  suicide  was  his  only  alternative  to  obeying  their 
behests?" 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled  faintly. 

"Ah,  my  dear  Passmore,"  he  said,  "you  must  not 
ask  me  that  question.  I  can  only  answer  you  in  this 
way.  If  you  wish  to  make  the  biggest  sensation  which 
has  ever  been  created  in  the  criminal  world,  to  render 
yourself  immortal,  and  your  fame  imperishable — find 
out!  I  may  not  help  you,  I  doubt  whether  you  will 
find  any  to  help  you.  But  if  you  want  excitement, 
the  excitement  of  a  dangerous  chase  after  a  tremen- 


284      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

dous  quarry,  take  your  life  in  your  hands,  go  hi  and 
win." 

Passmore's  withered  little  face  lit  up  with  a  gleam 
of  rare  excitement. 

"These  are  your  enemies,  sir,"  he  said.  "They 
have  attempted  your  life  once,  they  may  do  it  again. 
Assume  the  offensive  yourself.  Give  me  a  hint." 

Mr.  Sabin  shook  his  head. 

"That  I  cannot  do,"  he  said.  "I  have  saved  you 
from  wasting  your  time  on  a  false  scent.  I  have  given 
you  something  definite  to  work  upon.  Further  than 
that  I  can  do  nothing." 

Passmore  looked  his  disappointment,  but  he  kne\v 
Mr.  Sabin  better  than  to  argue  the  matter. 

"You  will  not  even  produce  that  letter  at  the  in 
quest?"  he  asked. 

"Not  even  that,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered. 

Passmore  rose  to  his  feet. 

"You  must  remember,"  he  said,  "that  supposing 
any  one  else  stumbles  upon  the  same  trail  as  I  have 
been  pursuing,  and  suspicion  is  afterwards  directed 
towards  madame,  your  not  producing  that  letter  at 
the  inquest  will  make  it  useless  as  evidence  in  her 
favour." 

"I  have  considered  all  these  things,"  Mr.  Sabin 
said.  "I  shall  deposit  the  letter  in  a  safe  place.  But 
its  use  will  never  be  necessary.  You  are  the  only  man 
who  might  have  forced  me  to  produce  it,  and  you 
know  the  truth." 

Passmore  rose  reluctantly. 

"I  want  you,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "to  leave  me  not 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       285 

only  your  address,  but  the  means  of  finding  you  at 
any  moment  during  the  next  four-and-twenty  hours. 
I  may  have  some  important  work  for  you." 

The  man  smiled  as  he  tore  a  leaf  from  his  pocket- 
book  and  a  made  a  few  notes. 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  take  any  commission  from  you, 
sir,"  he  said.  "To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  scarcely 
thought  that  you  would  be  content  to  sit  down  and 
wait." 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled. 

"I  think,"  he  said,  "that  very  shortly  I  can  find 
you  plenty  to  do." 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

MR.  SABIN  a  few  minutes  afterwards  or- 
dered his   carriage,  and  was   driven  to 
Dorset  House.     He  asked  for  Lucille, 
but  was  shown  at  once  into  the  library, 
where  the  Duke  was  awaiting  him.     Then  Mr.  Sabin 
„  knew  that  something  had  happened. 

The  Duke  extended  his  hand  solemnly. 

"My  dear  Souspennier,"  he  said,  "I  am  glad  to 
see  you.  I  was  in  fact  on  the  point  of  despatching  a 
messenger  to  your  hotel." 

"I  am  glad,"  Mr.  Sabin  remarked,  "that  my  visit 
is  opportune.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Duke,  I  am 
anxious  to  see  my  wife." 

The  Duke  coughed. 

"I  trust,"  he  said,  "that  you  will  not  for  a  moment 
consider  me  guilty  of  any  discourtesy  to  the  Countess, 
for  whom  I  have  a  great  respect  and  liking.  But  it 
has  come  to  my  knowledge  that  the  shelter  of  my  roof 
and  name  were  being  given  to  proceedings  of  which 
I  heartily  disapproved.  I  therefore  only  a  few  hours 
ago  formally  broke  off  all  connection  with  Saxe  Lei- 
nitzer  and  his  friends,  and  to  put  the  matter  plainly, 
I  expelled  them  from  the  house." 

"I  congratulate  3Tou  heartily,  Duke,  upon  a  most 
sensible  proceeding,"  Mr.  Sabin  said.  "But  in  the 
meantime  where  is  my  wife?" 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       287 

"Your  wife  was  not  present  at  the  time,"  the  Duke 
answered,  "and  I  had  not  the  slightest  intention  of 
including  her  in  the  remarks  I  made.  Whether  she 
understood  this  or  not  I  cannot  say,  but  I  have  since 
been  given  to  understand  that  she  left  with  them." 

"How  long  ago?"  Mr.  Sabin  asked. 

"Several  hours,  I  fear,"  the  Duke  answered.  "I 
should  like,  Souspcnnier,  to  express  to  you  my  regrets 
that  I  was  ever  induced  to  become  connected  in  any 
way  with  proceedings  which  must  have  caused  you  a 
great  deal  of  pain.  I  beg  you  to  accept  my  apol- 
ogies." 

"I  do  not  blame  you,  Duke,"  Mr.  Sabin  said.  "My 
one  desire  now  is  to  wrest  my  wife  away  from  this 
gang.  Can  you  tell  me  whether  she  left  alone  or  with 
any  of  them  ?" 

"I  will  endeavour  to  ascertain,"  the  Duke  said, 
ringing  the  bell. 

But  before  the  Duke's  somewhat  long-winded  series 
of  questions  had  gone  very  far  Mr.  Sabin  grasped  the 
fact  that  the  servants  had  been  tampered  with.  With- 
out wasting  any  more  time  he  took  a  somewhat  hurried 
leave  and  drove  back  to  the  hotel.  One  of  the  hall  por- 
ters approached  him,  smiling. 

"There  is  a  lady  waiting  for  you  in  your  rooms, 
sir,"  he  announced.  "She  arrived  a  few  minutes  ago." 

Mr.  Sabin  rang  for  the  elevator,  got  out  at  his  floor 
and  walked  down  the  corridor,  leaning  a  little  more 
heavily  than  usual  upon  his  stick.  If  indeed  it  were 
Lucille  who  had  braved  all  and  come  to  him  the  way 
before  them  might  still  be  smooth  sailing.  He  would 


288      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

never  let  her  go  again.  He  was  sure  of  that.  They 
would  leave  England — yes,  there  was  time  still  to 
catch  the  five  o'clock  train.  He  turned  the  handle 
of  his  door  and  entered.  A  familiar  figure  rose  from 
the  depths  of  his  easy-chair.  Her  hat  lay  on  the 
table,  her  jacket  was  open,  one  of  his  cigarettes  was 
between  her  lips.  But  it  was  not  Lucille. 

"Lady  Carey!"  he  said  slowly.  "This  is  an  unex- 
pected pleasure.  Have  you  brought  Lucille  with 
you?" 

"I  am  afraid,"  she  answered,  "that  I  have  no  ropes 
strong  enough." 

"You  insinuate,"  he  remarked,  "that  Lucille  would 
be  unwilling  to  come." 

"There  is  no  longer  any  need,"  she  declared,  with 
a  hard  little  laugh,  "for  insinuations.  We  have  all 
been  turned  out  from  Dorset  House  neck  and  crop. 
Lucille  has  accepted  the  inevitable.  She  has  gone  to 
Reginald's  Brott's  rooms." 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled. 

"Indeed.  I  have  just  come  from  Dorset  House 
myself.  The  Duke  has  supplied  me  with  a  highty  en- 
tertaining account  of  his  sudden  awakening.  The 
situation  must  have  been  humorous." 

Her  eyes  twinkled. 

"It  was  really  screamingly  funny.  The  Duke  had 
on  his  House  of  Lords  manner,  and  we  all  sat  round 
like  a  lot  of  naughty  children.  If  only  you  had  been 
there." 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled.  Suddenly  she  laid  her  hand 
upon  his  arm. 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       289 

"Victor,"  she  said,  "I  have  come  to  prove  that  I 
am  your  friend.  You  do  not  believe  that  Lucille  is 
with  Reginald  Brott.  It  is  true!  Not  only  that, 
but  she  is  leaving  England  with  him  to-night.  The 
man's  devotion  is  irresistible — he  has  been  gaining 
on  her  slowly  but  surely  all  the  time." 

"I  have  noticed,"  Mr.  Sabin  remarked  calmly, 
"that  he  has  been  wonderfully  assiduous.  I  am  sure 
I  congratulate  him  upon  his  success,  if  he  has  suc- 
ceeded." 

"You  doubt  my  word,  of  course,"  she  said.  "But 
I  have  not  come  here  to  tell  you  things.  I  have  come 
to  prove  them.  I  presume  that  what  you  see  with 
your  own  eyes  will  be  sufficient." 

Mr.  Sabin  shook  his  head. 

"Certainly  not,"  he  answered.  "I  make  it  a  rule 
to  believe  nothing  that.  I  see,  and  never  to  trust  my 
ears." 

She  stamped  her  foot  lightly  upon  the  floor. 

"How  impossible  you  are,"  she  exclaimed.  "I  can 
tell  you  by  what  train  Lucille  and  Reginald  Brott 
will  leave  London  to-night.  I  can  tell  you  why  Lucille 
is  bound  to  go." 

"Now,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "you  are  beginning  to  get 
interesting." 

"Lucille  must  go — or  run  the  risk  of  arrest  for 
complicity  in  the  murder  of  Duson." 

"Are  you  serious?"  Mr.  Sabin  asked,  with  ad- 
mirably assumed  gravity. 

"Is  it  a  jesting  matter?"  she  answered  fiercely. 
"Lucille  bought  poison,  the  same  poison  which  it  will 


290      THE    YELLOW    CRAYON 

be  proved  that  Duson  died  of.  She  came  here,  she  was 
the  last  person  to  enter  your  room  before  Duson  was 
found  dead.  The  police  are  even  now  searching  fof 
her.  Escape  is  her  only  chance." 

"Dear  me,"  Mr.  Sabin  said.  "Then  it  is  not  only 
for  Brott's  sake  that  she  is  running  away." 

"What  does  that  matter?  She  is  going,  and  she 
is  going  with  him." 

"And  why,"  he  asked,  "do  you  come  to  give  me 
warning?  I  have  plenty  of  time  to  interpose." 

"You  can  try  if  you  will.  Lucille  is  in  hiding.  She 
will  not  see  you  if  you  go  to  her.  She  is  determined. 
Indeed,  she  has  no  choice.  Lucille  is  a  brave  woman 
in  many  ways,  but  you  know  that  she  fears  death. 
She  is  in  a  corner.  She  is  forced  to  go." 

"Again,"  he  said,  "I  feel  that  I  must  ask  you  why 
do  you  give  me  warning?" 

She  came  and  stood  close  to  him. 

"Perhaps,"  she  said  earnestly,  "I  am  anxious  to 
earn  your  gratitude.  Perhaps,  too,  I  know  that  no 
interposition  of  yours  would  be  of  any  avail." 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled. 

"Still,"  he  said,  "I  do  not  think  that  it  is  wise  of 
you.  I  might  appear  at  the  station  and  forcibly  pre- 
vent Lucille's  departure.  After  all,  she  is  my  wife, 
you  know." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  she  said.  "You  will  make  in- 
quiries when  I  have  gone,  and  you  will  find  out  that 
I  have  spoken  the  truth.  If  you  keep  Lucille  in  Eng- 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       291 

land  you  will  expose  her  to  a  terrible  risk.  It  is  not 
like  you  to  be  selfish.  You  will  yield  to  necessity." 

"Will  you  tell  me  where  Lucille  is  now?"  he  asked. 

"For  your  own  sake  and  hers,  no,"  she  answered. 
"You  also  are  watched.  Besides,  it  is  too  late.  She 
was  with  Brott  half  an  hour  after  the  Duke  turned 
us  out  of  Dorset  House.  Don't  you  understand,  Vic- 
tor— won't  you?  It  is  too  late." 

He  sat  down  heavily  in  his  easy-chair.  His  whole 
appearance  was  one  of  absolute  dejection. 

"So  I  am  to  be  left  alone  in  my  old  age."  he  mur- 
mured. "You  have  your  revenge  now  at  last.  You 
have  come  to  take  it." 

She  sank  on  her  knees  by  the  side  of  his  chair,  and 
her  arms  fell  upon  his  shoulders. 

"How  can  you  think  so  cruelly  of  me,  Victor,"  she 
murmured.  "You  were  always  a  little  mistaken  in 
Lucille.  She  loved  you,  it  is  true,  but  all  her  life  she 
has  been  fond  of  change  and  excitement.  She  came 
to  Europe  willingly — long  before  this  Brott  would 
have  been  her  slave  save  for  your  reappearance. 
Can't  you  forget  her — for  a  little  while?" 

Mr.  Sabin  sat  quite  still.  Her  hair  brushed  his 
cheeks,  her  arms  were  about  his  neck,  her  whole  atti- 
tude was  an  invitation  for  his  embrace.  But  he  sat 
like  a  figure  of  stone,  neither  repulsing  nor  encourag- 
ing her. 

"You  need  not  be  alone  unless  you  like,"  she  whis- 
pered. 

"I  am  an  old  man,"  he  said  slowly,  "and  this  is 


292      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

a  hard  blow  for  me  to  bear.  I  must  be  sure,  absolutely 
sure  that  she  has  gone." 

"By  this  time  to-morrow,"  she  murmured,  "all  the 
world  will  know  it." 

"Come  to  me  then,"  he  said.  "I  shall  need  con- 
solation." 

Her  eyes  were  bright  with  triumph.  She  leaned 
over  him  and  kissed  him  on  the  lips.  Then  she  sprang 
lightly  to  her  feet. 

"Wait  here  for  me,"  she  said,  "and  I  will  come  to 
you.  You  shall  know,  Victor,  that  Lucille  is  not  the 
only  woman  in  the  world  who  has  cared  for  you." 

There  was  a  tap  at  the  door.  Lady  Carey  was 
busy  adjusting  her  hat.  Passmore  entered,  and  stood 
hesitating  upon  the  threshold.  Mr.  Sabin  had  risen 
to  his  feet.  He  took  one  of  her  hands  and  raised  it  to 
his  lips.  She  gave  him  a  swift,  wonderful  look  and 
passed  out. 

Mr.  Sabin's  manner  changed  as  though  by  magic. 
He  was  at  once  alert  and  vigorous. 

"My  dear  Passmore,"  he  said,  "come  to  the  table. 
We  shall  want  those  Continental  time-tables  and  the 
London  A.B.C.  You  will  have  to  take  a  journey  to- 
night." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 


F"~  ^IHE  two  women  were  alone  in  the  morning- 
room  of  Lady  Carey's  house  in  Pont 
Street.  Lucille  was  walking  restlessly  up 
and  down,  twisting  her  handkerchief  be- 
tween her  fingers.  Lady  Carey  was  watching  her, 
more  composed,  to  all  outward  appearance,  but  with 
closely  compressed  lips,  and  a  boding  gleam  in  her 
eyes. 

"I  think,"  Lady-  Carey  said,  "that  you  had  better 
see  him." 

Lucille  turned  almost  fiercely  upon  her. 

"And  why?" 

"Well,  for  one  thing  he  will  not  understand  your 
refusal.  He  may  be  suspicious." 

"What  does  it  matter?  I  have  finished  with  him. 
I  have  done  all  that  I  pledged  myself  to.  What 
more  can  be  expected  of  me  ?  I  do  not  wish  to  see  him 
again." 

Lady  Carey  laughed. 

"At  least,"  she  said,  "I  think  that  the  poor  man 
has  a  right  to  receive  his  conge  from  you.  You  can- 
not break  with  him  without  a  word  of  explanation. 
Perhaps — you  may  not  find  it  so  easy  as  it  seems." 

Lucille  swept  around. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

Lady  Carey  shrugged  her  shoulders. 


294      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"You  are  in  a  curious  mood,  my  dear  Lucille. 
What  I  mean  is  obvious  enough.  Brott  is  a  strong 
man  and  a  determined  man.  I  do  not  think  that  he 
will  enjoy  being  made  a  fool  of." 

Lucille  was  indifferent. 

"At  any  rate,"  she  said,  "I  shall  not  see  him.  I 
have  quite  made  up  my  mind  about  that." 

"And  why  not,  Countess?"  a  deep  voice  asked  from 
the  threshold.  "What  have  I  done?  May  I  not  at 
least  know  my  fault?" 

Lady  Carey  rose  and  moved  towards  the  door. 

"You  shall  have  it  out  between  yourselves,"  she  de- 
clared, looking  up,  and  nodding  at  Brott  as  she 
passed.  "Don't  fight !" 

"Muriel!" 

The  cry  was  imperative,  but  Lady  Carey  had  gone. 
Mr.  Brott  closed  the  door  behind  him  and  confronted 
Lucille.  A  brilliant  spot  of  colour  flared  in  her  pale 
cheeks. 

"But  this  is  a  trap!"  she  exclaimed.  "Who  sent 
for  you?  Why  did  you  come?" 

He  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"Lucille!" 

His  eyes  were  full  of  passionate  remonstrance. 
She  looked  nervously  from  him  towards  the  door.  He 
intercepted  her  glance. 

"What  have  I  done?"  he  asked  fiercely.  "What 
have  I  failed  to  do?  Why  do  you  look  as  though  I 
had  forced  myself  upon  you?  Haven't  I  the  right? 
Don't  you  wish  to  see  me?" 

In  Brott's   face  and  tone  was  all  the  passionate 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       295 

strenuousness  of  a  great  crisis.  Lucille  felt  suddenly 
helpless  before  the  directness  of  his  gaze,  his  storm 
of  questions.  In  all  their  former  intercourse  it  had 
been  she  who  by  virtue  of  her  sex  and  his  blind  love 
for  her  had  kept  the  upper  hand.  And  now  the 
position  was  changed.  All  sorts  of  feeble  explana- 
tions, of  appeals  to  him,  occurred  to  her  dimly,  only 
to  be  rejected  by  reason  of  their  ridiculous  inade- 
quacy. She  was  silent — abjectly  silent. 

He  came  a  little  closer  to  her,  and  the  strength  of 
the  man  was  manifest  in  his  intense  self-restraint. 
His  words  were  measured,  his  tone  quiet.  Yet  both 
somehow  gave  evidence  of  the  smouldering  fires  be- 
neath. 

"Lucille,"  he  said,  "I  find  you  hard  to  understand 
to-day.  You  have  made  me  your  slave,  you  came 
once  more  into  my  life  at  its  most  critical  moment, 
and  for  your  sake  I  have  betrayed  a  great  trust.  My 
conscience,  my  faith,  and  although  that  counts  for 
little,  my  political  career,  were  in  the  balance  against 
my  love  for  you.  You  know  which  conquered.  At 
your  bidding  I  have  made  myself  the  jest  of  every 
man  who  buys  the  halfpenny  paper  and  calls  him- 
self a  politician.  My  friends  heap  abuse  upon  me, 
my  enemies  derision.  I  cannot  hold  my  position  in 
this  new  Cabinet.  I  had  gone  too  far  for  compromise. 
I  wonder  if  you  quite  understand  what  has  happened?" 

"Oh,  I  have  heard  too  much,"  she  cried.  "Spare 
me  the  rest." 

He  continued  as  though  he  had  not  heard  her. 

"Men  who  have  been  my  intimate  associates  for 


296      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

many  years,  and  whose  friendship  was  dear  to  me, 
cross  the  road  to  avoid  meeting  me,  day  by  day  I  am 
besieged  with  visitors  and  letters  from  the  suffering 
people  to  whom  my  word  had  been  pledged,  imploring 
me  for  some  explanation,  for  one  word  of  denial. 
Life  has  become  a  hell  for  me,  a  pestilent,  militant 
hell!  Yet,  Lucille,  unless  you  break  faith  with  me  I 
make  no  complaint.  I  am  content." 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  she  said.  "I  do  not  think  that 
you  have  properly  understood  me.  I  have  never  made 
you  any  promise." 

For  a  moment  he  lost  control  of  himself.  She 
shrank  back  at  the  blaze  of  indignation,  half  scorn- 
ful, half  incredulous,  which  lit  up  his  clear,  grey  eyes. 

"It  is  a  lie!"  he  answered.  "Between  you  and  me 
it  can  be  no  question  of  words.  You  were  always 
very  careful  of  your  pledges,  but  there  are  limits  even 
to  your  caution — as  to  my  forbearance.  A  woman 
does  not  ask  a  man  who  is  pleading  to  her  for  her 
lore  to  give  up  everything  else  he  cares  for  in  life 
without  hope  of  reward.  It  is  monstrous!  I  never 
sought  you  under  false  pretences.  I  never  asked  you 
for  your  friendship.  I  wanted  you.  I  told  you  so 
plainly.  You  won't  deny  that  you  gave  me  hope — 
encouraged  me?  You  can't  even  deny  that  I  am  with- 
in my  rights  if  I  claim  now  at  this  instant  the  reward 
for  my  apostasy." 

Her  hands  were  suddenly  locked  in  his.  She  felt 
herself  being  drawn  into  his  arms.  With  a  desperate 
effort  she  avoided  his  embrace.  He  still  held  her  left 
wrist,  and  his  face  was  dark  with  passion. 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       297 

"Let  me  go  1"  she  pleaded. 

"Not  I!"  he  answered,  with  an  odd,  choked  little 
laugh.  "You  belong  to  me.  I  have  paid  the  price. 
I,  too,  am  amongst  the  long  list  of  those  poor  fools 
r-ho  have  sold  their  gods  and  their  honour  for  a 
woman's  kiss.  But  I  will  not  be  left  wholly  destitute. 
You  shall  pay  me  for  what  I  have  lost." 

"Oh,  you  are  mad!"  she  answered.  "How  could 
you  have  deceived  yourself  so?  Don't  you  know  that 
my  husband  is  in  London?" 

"The  man  who  calls  himself  Mr.  Sabin?"  he  an- 
swered roughly.  "What  has  that  to  do  with  it  ?  You 
are  living  apart.  Saxe  Leinitzer  and  the  Duchess 
have  both  told  me  the  history  of  your  married  life. 
Or  is  the  whole  thing  a  monstrous  lie?"  he  cried,  with 
a  sudden  dawning  sense  of  the  truth.  "Nonsense!  I 
won't  believe  it.  Lucille !  You're  not  afraid !  I  shall 
be  good  to  you.  You  don't  doubt  that.  Sabin  will 

divorce  you  of  course.     You  won't  lose  your  friends. 
j » 

There  was  a  sudden  loud  tapping  at  the  door. 
Brott  dropped  her  wrist  and  turned  round  with  an 
.exclamation  of  anger.  To  Lucille  it  was  a  Heaven- 
sent interposition.  The  Prince  entered,  pale,  and 
with  signs  of  hurry  and  disorder  about  his  usually 
immaculate  person. 

"You  are  both  here,"  he  exclaimed.  "Good!  Lu~ 
cille,  I  must  speak  with  you  urgently  in  five  minutes. 
Brott,  come  this  way  with  me." 

Lucille  sank  into  a  chair  with  a  little  murmur  of 


298      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

relief.  The  Prince  led  Brott  into  another  room,  and 
closed  the  door  carefully  behind  him. 

"Mr.  Brott,"  he  said,  "can  I  speak  to  you  as  a 
friend  of  Lucille's?" 

Brott,  who  distrusted  the  Prince,  looked  him  stead- 
ily in  the  face.  Saxe  Leinitzer's  agitation  was  too 
apparent  to  be  wholly  assumed.  He  had  all  the  ap- 
pearance of  being  a  man  desperately  in  earnest. 

"I  have  always  considered  myself  one,"  Brott  an- 
swered. "I  am  beginning  to  doubt,  however,  whether 
the  Countess  holds  me  in  the  same  estimation." 

"You  found  her  hysterical,  unreasonable,  over- 
wrought!" the  Prince  exclaimed.  "That  is  so,  eh?" 

The  Prince  drew  a  long  breath. 

"Brott,"  he  said,  "I  am  forced  to  confide  in  you. 
Lucille  is  in  terrible  danger.  I  am  not  sure  that  there 
is  anybody  who  can  effectually  help  her  but  you.  Are 
you  prepared  to  make  a  great  sacrifice  for  her  sake — 
to  leave  England  at  once,  to  take  her  to  the  uttermost 
part  of  the  world?" 

Brott's  eyes  were  suddenly  bright.  The  Prince 
quailed  before  the  fierceness  of  his  gaze. 

"She  would  not  go !"  he  exclaimed  sharply. 

"She  will,"  the  Prince  answered.  "She  must !  Not 
only  that,  but  you  will  earn  her  eternal  gratitude. 
Listen,  I  must  tell  you  the  predicament  in  which  we 
find  ourselves.  It  places  Lucille's  life  in  your  hands." 

"What?" 

The  exclamation  came  like  a  pistol  shot.  The 
Prince  held  up  his  hand. 

"Do  not  interrupt.    Let  me  speak.    Every  moment 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       299 

is  very  valuable.  You  heard  without  doubt  of  the 
sudden  death  at  the  Carlton  Hotel.  It  took  place  in 
Mr.  Sabin's  sitting-room.  The  victim  was  Mr. 
Sabin's  servant.  The  inquest  was  this  afternoon. 
The  verdict  was  death  from  the  effect  of  poison.  The 
police  are  hot  upon  the  case.  There  was  no  evidence 
as  to  the  person  by  whom  the  poison  was  administered, 
but  by  a  hideous  combination  of  circumstances  one 
person  before  many  hours  have  passed  will  be  under 
the  surveillance  of  the  police." 

"And  that  person?"  Brott  asked. 

The  Prince  looked  round  and  lowered  his  voice,  al- 
though the  room  was  empty. 

"Lucille,"  he  whispered  hoarsely. 

Brott  stepped  backwards  as  though  he  were  shot. 

"What  damned  folly !"  he  exclaimed. 

"It  is  possible  that  you  may  not  think  so  directly," 
Saxe  Leinitzer  continued.  "The  day  it  happened 
Lucille  bought  this  same  poison,  and  it  is  a  rare  one, 
from  a  man  who  has  absconded.  An  hour  before  this 
man  was  found  dead,  she  called  at  the  hotel,  left  no 
name,  but  went  upstairs  to  Mr.  Sabin's  room,  and 
was  alone  there  for  five  minutes.  The  man  died  from 
a  single  grain  of  poison  which  had  been  introduced 
into  Mr.  Sabin's  special  liqueur  glass,  out  of  which 
he  was  accustomed  to  drink  three  or  four  times  a  day. 
All  these  are  absolute  facts,  which  at  any  moment  may 
be  discovered  by  the  police.  Added  to  that  she  is 
living  apart  from  her  husband,  and  is  known  to  be 
on  bad  terms  with  him." 


300      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

Brott  was  gripping  the  back  of  a  chair.  He  was 
white  to  the  lips. 

"You  don't  think,"  he  cried  hoarsely.  "You  can't 
believe " 

"No,"  the  Prince  answered  quickly,  "I  don't  be- 
lieve anything  of  the  sort.  I  will  tell  you  as  man  to 
man  that  I  believe  she  wished  Mr.  Sabin  dead.  You 
yourself  should  know  why.  But  no,  I  don't  believe 
she  went  so  far  as  that.  It  was  an  accident.  But 
what  we  have  to  do  is  to  save  her.  Will  you  help  ?" 

"Yes." 

"She  must  cross  to  the  Continent  to-night  before 
the  police  get  on  the  scent.  Afterwards  she  must 
double  back  to  Havre  and  take  the  Bordlaise  for  New 
York  on  Saturday.  Once  there  I  can  guarantee  her 
protection." 

"Well?" 

"She  cannot  go  alone." 

"You  mean  that  I  should  go  with  her?" 

"Yes !  Get  her  right  away,  and  I  will  employ 
special  detectives  and  have  the  matter  cleared  up,  if 
ever  it  can  be.  But  if  she  remains  here  I  fear  that 
nothing  can  save  her  from  the  horror  of  an  arrest, 
even  if  afterwards  we  are  able  to  save  her.  You  your- 
self risk  much,  Brott.  The  only  question  that  remains 
is,  will  you  do  it?" 

"At  her  bidding — yes!"  Brott  declared. 

"Wait  here,"  the  Prince  answered. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

SAXE  LEINITZER  returned  to  the  morning- 
room,  and  taking  the  key  from  his  pocket 
unlocked  the  door.  Inside  Lucille  was  pale 
with  fury. 

"What!  I  am  a  prisoner,  then!"  she  exclaimed. 
"How  dare  you  lock  me  in?  This  is  not  your  house. 
Let  me  pass !  I  am  tired  of  all  this  stupid  espionage." 

The  Prince  stood  with  his  back  to  the  door. 

"It  is  for  your  own  sake,  Lucille.  The  house  is 
watched." 

She  sank  into  a  low  chair,  trembling.  The  Prince 
had  all  the  appearance  of  a  man  himself  seriously 
disturbed. 

"Lucille,"  he  said,  "we  will  do  what  we  can  for  you. 
The  whole  thing  is  horribly  unfortunate.  You  must 
leave  England  to-night.  Muriel  will  go  with  you. 
Her  presence  will  help  to  divert  suspicion.  Once  you 
can  reach  Paris  I  can  assure  you  of  safety.  But  in 
this  country  I  am  almost  powerless." 

"I  must  see  Victor,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone.  "I  will 
not  go  without." 

The  Prince  nodded. 

"I  have  thought  of  that.  There  is  no  reason,  Lu- 
cille, why  he  should  not  be  the  one  to  lead  you  into 
safety." 

"You  mean  that?"  she  cried. 


302      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"I  mean  it,"  the  Prince  answered.  "After  what  has 
happened  you  are  of  course  of  no  further  use  to  us. 
I  am  inclined  to  think,  too,  that  we  have  been  some- 
what exacting.  I  will  send  a  messenger  to  Souspen- 
nier  to  meet  you  at  Charing  Cross  to-night." 

She  sprang  up. 

"Let  me  write  it  myself." 

"Very  well,"  he  agreed,  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoul- 
ders. "But  do  not  address  or  sign  it.  There  is  danger 
in  any  communication  between  you." 

She  took  a  sheet  of  note-paper  and  hastily  wrote  a 
few  words. 

"I  have  need  of  your  help.  Will  you  be  at  Charing 
Cross  at  twelve  o'clock  prepared  for  a  journey. — Lu- 
cille." 

The  Prince  took  the  letter  from  her  and  hastily 
folded  it  up. 

"I  will  deliver  it  myself,"  he  announced.  "It  will 
perhaps  be  safest.  Until  I  return,  Lucille,  do  not 
stir  from  the  house  or  see  any  one.  Muriel  has  given 
the  servants  orders  to  admit  no  one.  All  your  life," 
he  added,  after  a  moment's  pause,  "you  have  been  a 
little  cruel  to  me,  and  this  time  also.  I  shall  pray  that 
you  will  relent  before  our  next  meeting." 

She  rose  to  her  feet  and  looked  him  full  in  the  face. 
She  seemed  to  be  following  out  her  own  train  of 
thought  rather  than  taking  note  of  his  words. 

"Even  now,"  she  said  thoughtfully,  "I  am  not  sure 
that  I  can  trust  you.  I  have  a  good  mind  to  fight  or 
scream  my  way  out  of  this  house,  and  go  myself  to 
see  Victor." 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       303 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"The  fighting  or  the  screaming  will  not  be  neces- 
sary, dear  Countess,"  he  said.  "The  doors  are  open 
to  you.  But  it  is  as  clear  as  day  that  if  you  go  to 
the  hotel  or  near  it  you  will  at  once  be  recognised, 
and  recognition  means  arrest.  There  is  a  limit  be- 
yond which  one  cannot  help  a  wilful  woman.  Take 
your  life  in  your  hands  and  go  your  own  way,  or  trust 
in  us  who  are  doing  our  best  to  save  you." 

"And  what  of  Reginald  Brott?"  she  asked. 

"Brott?"  the  Prince  repeated  impatiently.  "Who 
cares  what  becomes  of  him?  You  have  made  him  seem 
a  fool,  but,  Lucille,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  sorry 
that  we  did  not  leave  this  country  altogether  alone. 
There  is  not  the  soil  for  intrigue  here,  or  the  pos- 
sibility. Then,  too,  the  police  service  is  too  stolid,  too 
inaccessible.  And  even  our  friends,  for  whose  aid  we 
are  here — well,  you  heard  the  Duke.  The  cast-iron 
Saxon  idiocy  of  the  man.  The  aristocracy  here  are 
what  they  call  bucolic.  It  is  their  own  fault.  They 
have  intermarried  with  parvenus  and  Americans  for 
generations.  The}'  are  a  race  by  themselves.  We 
others  may  shake  ourselves  free  from  them.  I  would 
work  in  any  country  of  the  globe  for  the  good  of  our 
cause,  but  never  again  in  England." 

Lucille  shivered  a  little. 

"I  am  not  in  the  humour  for  argument,"  she  de- 
clared. "If  you  would  earn  my  gratitude  take  that 
note  to  my  husband.  He  is  the  only  man  I  feel  sure 
of — whom  I  know  can  protect  me." 

The  Prince  bowed  low. 


304      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"It  is  our  farewell,  Countess,"  he  said. 

"I  cannot  pretend,"  she  answered,  "to  regret  it." 

Saxe  Leinitzer  left  the  room.  There  was  a  peculiar 
smile  upon  his  lips  as  he  crossed  the  hall.  Brott  was 
still  awaiting  for  him. 

"Mr.  Brott,"  he  said,  "the  Countess  is,  as  I  feared, 
too  agitated  to  see  you  again  for  the  present,  or  any 
one  else.  She  sends  you,  however,  this  message." 

He  took  the  folded  paper  from  his  waistcoat  pocket 
and  handed  it  to  the  other  man.  Brott  read  it  through 
eagerly.  His  eyes  shone. 

"She  accepts  the  situation,  then?"  he  exclaimed. 

"Precisely !  Will  you  pardon  me,  my  friend,  if  I 
venture  upon  one  other  word.  Lucille  is  not  an  ordi- 
nary woman.  She  is  not  in  the  least  like  the  majority 
of  her  sex,  especially,  I  might  add,  amongst  us.  The 
fact  that  her  husband  was  living  would  seriously  in- 
fluence her  consideration  of  any  other  man — as  her 
lover.  The  present  crisis,  however,  has  changed  every- 
thing. I  do  not  think  that  you  will  have  cause  to 
complain  of  her  lack  of  gratitude." 

Brott  walked  out  into  the  streets  with  the  half 
sheet  of  note-paper  twisted  up  between  his  fingers. 
For  the  first  time  for  months  he  was  conscious  of  a 
distinct  and  vivid  sense  of  happiness.  The  terrible 
period  of  indecision  was  past.  He  knew  now  where 
he  stood.  Nor  was  his  immediate  departure  from 
England  altogether  unpleasant  to  him.  His  political 
career  was  shattered — friends  and  enemies  were  alike 
cold  to  him.  Such  an  act  of  cowardice  as  his,  such 
pitiful  shrinking  back  at  the  last  fateful  moment, 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       305 

was  inexplicable  and  revolting.  Even  Letheringham 
was  barely  civil.  It  was  certain  that  his  place  in  the 
Cabinet  would  be  intolerable.  He  yearned  for  escape 
from  it  all,  and  the  means  of  escape  were  now  at  hand. 
In  after  years  he  knew  very  well  that  the  shadow  of 
his  broken  trust,  the  torture  of  his  misused  opportuni- 
ties, would  stand  for  ever  between  him  and  the  light. 
But  at  that  moment  he  was  able  to  clear  his  mind  of 
all  such  disquieting  thoughts.  He  had  won  Lucille — 
never  mind  at  what  cost,  at  what  peril!  He  had  won 
Lucille ! 

He  was  deeply  engrossed,  and  his  name  was  spoken 
twice  in  his  ear  before  he  turned  round.  A  small, 
somewhat  shabby-looking  man,  with  tired  eyes  and 
more  than  a  day's  growth  of 'beard  upon  his  chin,  had 
accosted  him. 

"Mr.  Brott,  sir.    A  word  with  you,  please." 

Brott  held  out  his  hand.  Nevertheless  his  tone  when 
he  spoke  lacked  heartiness. 

"You,  Hedley!  Why,  what  brings  you  to  Lon- 
don?" 

The  little  man  did  not  seem  to  see  the  hand.  At 
any  rate  he  made  no  motion  to  take  it. 

"A  few  minutes'  chat  with  Mr.  Brott.  That's  what 
I've  come  for." 

Brott  raised  his  eyebrows,  and  nodded  in  somewhat 
constrained  fashion. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  am  on  my  way  to  my  rooms. 
We  can  talk  as  we  go,  if  you  like.  I  am  afraid  the 
good  people  up  in  your  part  of  the  world  are  not  too 
well  pleased  with  me." 


306      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

The  little  man  smiled  rather  queerly. 

"That  is  quite  true,"  he  answered  calmly.  "They 
hate  a  liar  and  a  turn-coat.  So  do  I !" 

Brott  stopped  short  upon  the  pavement. 

"If  you  are  going  to  talk  like  that  to  me,  Hedley," 
he  said,  "the  less  you  have  to  say  the  better." 

The  man  nodded. 

"Very  well,"  he  said.  "What  I  have  to  say  won't 
take  me  very  long.  But  as  I've  tramped  most  of  the 
way  up  here  to  say  it,  you'll  have  to  listen  here  or 
somewhere  else.  I  thought  you  were  always  one  who 
liked  the  truth." 

"So  I  do !"  Brott  answered.     "Go  on !" 

The  man  shuffled  along  by  his  side.  They  were 
an  odd-looking  pair,  for  Brott  was  rather  a  careful 
man  as  regards  his  toilet,  and  his  companion  looked 
little  better  than  a  tramp. 

"All  my  life,"  he  continued,  "I've  been  called  'Mad 
Hedley,'  or  'Hedley,  the  mad  tailor.'  Sometimes  one 
and  sometimes  the  other.  It  don't  matter  which. 
There's  truth  in  it.  I  am  a  bit  mad.  You,  Mr.  Brott, 
were  one  of  those  who  understood  me  a  little.  I  have 
brooded  a  good  deal  perhaps,  and  things  have  got 
muddled  up  in  my  brain.  You  know  what  has  been 
at  the  bottom  of  it  all. 

"I  began  making  speeches  when  "I  was  a  boy.  Peo- 
ple laughed  at  me,  but  I've  set  many  a  one  a-thinking. 
I'm  no  anarchist,  although  people  call  me  one.  I'll 
admit  that  I  admire  the  men  who  set  the  French  Revo- 
lution going.  If  such  a  thing  happened  in  this  coun- 
try I'd  be  one  of  the  first  to  join  in.  But  I've  never 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       307 

had  a  taste  for  bloodshed.  I'd  rather  the  thing  had 
been  done  without.  From  the  first  you  seemed  to  be 
the  man  who  might  have  brought  it  about.  We  list- 
ened to  you,  we  watched  your  career,  and  we  began 
to  have  hopes.  Mr.  Brott,  the  bodies  and  souls  of 
millions  of  your  fellow-creatures  were  in  the  hollow 
of  your  hand.  It  was  you  who  might  have  set  them 
free.  It  was  you  who  might  have  made  this  the  great- 
est, the  freest,  the  happiest  country  in  the  world.  Not 
so  much  for  us  perhaps  as  for  our  children,  and  our 
children's  children.  We  didn't  expect  a  huge  social 
upheaval  in  a  week,  or  even  a  decade  of  years.  But 
we  did  expect  to  see  the  first  blow  struck.  Oh,  yes,  we 
expected  that." 

"I  have  disappointed  }'ou,  I  know,  you  and  many 
others,"  Brott  said  bitterly.  "I  wish  I  could  explain. 
But  I  can't!" 

"Oh,  it  doesn't  matter,"  the  man  answered.  "You 
have  broken  the  hearts  of  thousands  of  suffering  men 
and  women — you  who  might  have  led  them  into  the 
light,  have  forged  another  bolt  in  the  bars  which 
stand  between  them  and  liberty.  So  they  must  live 
on  in  the  darkness,  dull,  dumb  creatures  with  just 
spirit  enough  to  spit  and  curse  at  the  sound  of  your 
name.  It  was  the  greatest  trust  God  ever  placed  in 
one  man's  hand — and  you — you  abused  it.  They  were 
afraid  of  you — the  aristocrats,  and  they  bought  you. 
Oh,  we  are  not  blind  up  there — there  are  newspapers 
in  our  public  houses,  and  now  and  then  one  can  afford 
a  half-penny.  We  have  read  of  you  at  their  parties 
and  their  dances.  Quite  one  of  them  you  have  become, 


308      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

haven't  you?  But,  Mr.  Brott,  have  you  never  been 
afraid?  Have  you  never  said  to  yourself,  there  is  jus- 
tice in  the  earth?  Suppose  it  finds  me  out?" 

"Hedley,  you  are  talking  rubbish,"  Brott  said. 
"Up  here  you  would  see  things  with  different  eyes. 
Letheringham  is  pledged." 

"If  any  man  ever  earned  hell,"  Hedley  continued, 
"it  is  you,  Brott,  you  who  came  to  us  a  deliverer,  and 
turned  out  to  be  a  lying  prophet.  "Hell,"  he  re- 
peated fiercely,  "and  may  you  find  it  swiftly." 

The  man's  right  hand  came  out  of  his  long  pocket. 
They  were  in  the  thick  of  Piccadilly,  but  his  action 
was  too  swift  for  any  interference.  Four  reports 
rang  suddenly  out,  and  the  muzzle  of  the  revolver 
was  held  deliberately  within  an  inch  or  so  of  Brott's 
heart.  And  before  even  the  nearest  of  the  bystanders 
could  realise  what  had  happened  Brott  lay  across  the 
pavement  a  dead  man,  and  Hedley  was  calmly  handing 
over  the  revolver  to  a  policeman  who  had  sprang 
across  the  street. 

"Be  careful,  officer,"  he  said,  "there  are  still  two 
chambers  loaded.  I  will  come  with  you  quite  quietly. 
That  is  Mr.  Reginald  Brott,  the  Cabinet  Minister, 
and  I  have  killed  him." 


F 


CHAPTER  XL. 

4  4  ~H T^OR  once,"  Lady  Carey  said,  with  a 
faint  smile,  "your  'admirable  Crich- 
ton'  has  failed  you." 

Lucille  opened  her  eyes.     She  had 
been  leaning  back  amongst  the  railway  cushions. 

"I  think  not,"  she  said.  "Only  I  blame  myself 
that  I  ever  trusted  the  Prince  even  so  far  as  to  give 
him  that  message.  For  I  know  very  well  that  if  Vic- 
tor had  received  it  he  would  have  been  here." 

Lady  Carey  took  up  a  great  pile  of  papers  and 
looked  them  carelessly  through. 

"I  am  afraid,"  she  said,  "that  I  do  not  agree  with 
you.  I  do  not  think  that  Saxe  Leinitzer  had  any 
desire  except  to  see  you  safely  away.  I  believe  that 
he  will  be  quite  as  disappointed  as  you  are  that  your 
husband  is  not  here  to  aid  you.  Some  one  must  see 
you  safely  on  the  steamer  at  Havre.  Perhaps  he  will 
come  himself." 

"I  shall  wait  in  Paris,"  Lucille  said  quietly,  "for 
my  husband." 

"You  may  wait,"  Lady  Carey  said,  "for  a  very  long 
time." 

Lucille  looked  at  her  steadily.  "What  do  you 
mean  ?" 

"What  a  fool  you  are,  Lucille.  If  to  other  people 
it  seems  almost  certain  on  the  face  of  it  that  you  were 


310      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

responsible  for  that  drop  of  poison  in  your  husband's 
liqueur  glass,  why  should  it  not  seem  so  to  him- 
self?" 

Lucille  laughed,  but  there  was  a  look  of  horror  in 
her  dark  eyes. 

"How  absurd.  I  know  Victor  better  than  to  be- 
lieve him  capable  of  such  a  suspicion.  Just  as  he 
knows  me  better  than  to  believe  me  capable  of  such 
an  act." 

"Really.  But  you  were  in  his  rooms  secretly  just 
before." 

"I  went  to  leave  some  roses  for  him,"  Lucille  an- 
swered. "And  if  you  would  like  to  know  it,  I  will  tell 
you  this.  I  left  my  card  tied  to  them  with  a  message 
for  him." 

Lady  Carey  yawned. 

"A  remarkably  foolish  thing  to  do,"  she  said. 
"That  may  cause  you  trouble  later  on.  Great  heavens, 
what  is  this?" 

She  held  the  evening  paper  open  in  her  hand.  Lu- 
cille leaned  over  with  blanched  face. 

"What  has  happened?"  she  cried.  "Tell  me,  can't 
you!" 

"Reginald  Brott  has  been  shot  in  Piccadilly,"  Lady 
Carey  said. 

"Is  he  hurt?"  Lucille  asked. 

"He  is  dead!" 

They  read  the  brief  announcement  together.  The 
deed  had  been  committed  by  a  man  whose  reputation 
for  sanity  had  long  been  questioned,  one  of  Brott's 
own  constituents.  He  was  in  custody,  and  freely  ad- 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       311 

mittcd  his  guilt.  The  two  women  looked  at  one  an- 
other in  horror.  Even  Lady  Carey  was  affected. 

"What  a  hateful  thing,"  she  said.  "I  am  glad 
that  we  had  no  hand  in  it." 

"Are  you  so  sure  that  we  hadn't?"  Lucille  asked 
bitterly.  "You  see  what  it  says.  The  man  killed  him 
because  of  his  political  apostasy.  We  had  something 
to  do  with  that  at  least." 

Lady  Carey  was  recovering  her  sang  froid. 

"Oh,  well,"  she  said,  "indirect  influences  scarcely 
count,  or  one  might  trace  the  causes  of  everything 
which  happens  back  to  an  absurd  extent.  If  this  man 
was  mad  he  might  just  as  well  have  shot  Brott  for 
anything." 

Lucille  made  no  answer.  She  leaned  back  and 
closed  her  eyes.  She  did  not  speak  again  till  they 
reached  Dover. 

They  embarked  in  the  drizzling  rain.  Lady  Carey 
drew  a  little  breath  of  relief  as  they  reached  their 
cabin,  and  felt  the  boat  move  beneath  them. 

"Thank  goodness  that  we  are  really  off.  I  have 
been  horribly  nervous  all  the  time.  If  they  let  you 
leave  England  they  can  have  no  suspicion  as  yet." 

Lucille  was  putting  on  an  ulster  and  cap  to  go  out 
on  deck. 

"I  am  not  at  all  sure,"  she  said,  "that  I  shall  not 
return  to  England.  At  any  rate,  if  Victor  does  not 
come  to  me  in  Paris  I  shall  go  to  him." 

"What  beautiful  trust!"  Lady  Carey  answered. 
"My  dear  Lucille,  you  are  more  like  a  school-girl  than 
a  woman  of  the  world." 


312      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

A  steward  entered  with  a  telegram  for  Lucille.  It 
was  handed  in  at  the  Hayraarket,  an  hour  before  their 
departure.  Lucille  read  it,  and  her  face  blanched. 

"I  thank  you  for  your  invitation,  but  I  fear  that 
it  would  not  be  good  for  my  health. — S." 

Lady  Carey  looked  over  her  shoulder.  She  laughed 
hardly. 

"How  brutal!"  she  murmured.  "But,  then,  Victor 
can  be  brutal  sometimes,  can't  he?" 

Lucille  tore  it  into  small  pieces  without  a  word. 
Lady  Carey  waited  for  a  remark  from  her  in  vain. 

"I,  too,"  she  said  at  last,  "have  had  some  telegrams. 
I  have  been  hesitating  whether  to  show  them  to  you  or 
not.  Perhaps  you  had  better  see  them." 

She  produced  them  and  spread  them  out.  The  first 
was  dated  about  the  same  time  as  the  one  Lucille  had 
received. 

"Have  seen  S.  with  message  from  Lucille.  Fear 
quite  useless,  as  he  believes  worst." 

The  second  was  a  little  longer. 

"Have  just  heard  S.  has  left  for  Liverpool,  and 
has  engaged  berth  in  Campania,  sailing  to-morrow. 
Break  news  to  Lucille  if  you  think  well.  Have  wired 
him  begging  return,  and  promising  full  explana- 
tion." 

"If  these,"  Lucille  said  calmly,  "belonged  to  me 
I  should  treat  them  as  I  have  my  own." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  should  tear  them  up." 

Lady  Carey  shrugged  her  shoulders  with  the  air 
of  one  who  finds  further  argument  hopeless. 


"I  shall  have  no  more  to  say  to  you,  Lucille,  on 
this  subject,"  she  said.  "You  are  impossible.  In  a 
few  days  you  will  be  forced  to  come  round  to  my  point 
of  view.  I  will  wait  till  then.  And  in  the  meantime, 
if  you  think  I  am  going  to  tramp  up  and  down  those 
sloppy  decks  and  ga/e  at  the  sea  you  are  very  much 
mistaken.  I  am  going  to  lie  down  like  a  civilised 
being,  and  try  and  get  a  nap.  You  had  better  do  the 
same." 

Lucille  laughed. 

"For  my  part,"  she  said,  "I  find  any  part  of  the 
steamer  except  the  deck  intolerable.  I  am  going  now 
in  search  of  some  fresh  air.  Shall  I  send  your  woman 
along?" 

Lady  Carey  nodded,  for  just  then  the  steamer  gave 
a  violent  lurch,  and  she  was  not  feeling  talkative.  Lu- 
cille went  outside  and  walked  up  and  down  until  the 
lights  of  Calais  were  in  sight.  All  the  time  she  felt 
conscious  of  the  observation  of  a  small  man  clad  in 
a  huge  mackintosh,  whose  peaked  cap  completely 
obscured  his  features.  As  they  were  entering  the  har- 
bour she  purposely  stood  by  his  side.  He  held  on  to 
the  rail  with  one  hand  and  turned  towards  her. 

"It  has  been  quite  a  rough  passage,  has  it  not?" 
he  remarked. 

She  nodded. 

"I  have  crossed,"  she  said,  "when  it  has  been  much 
worse.  I  do  not  mind  so  long  as  one  may  come  on 
deck." 

"Your  friend,"  he  remarked,  "is  perhaps  not  so 
good  a  sailor?" 


"I  believe,"  Lucille  said,  "that  she  suffers  a  great 
deal.  I  just  looked  in  at  her,  and  she  was  certainly 
uncomfortable." 

The  little  man  gripped  the  rail  and  held  on  to  his 
cap  with  the  other  hand. 

"You  are  going  to  Paris?"  he  asked. 

Lucille  nodded. 

"Yes." 

They  were  in  smoother  water  now.  He  was  able  to 
relax  his  grip  of  the  rail.  He  turned  towards  Lucille, 
and  she  saw  him  for  the  first  time  distinctly — a  thin, 
wizened-up  little  man,  with  shrewd  kindly  eyes,  and  a 
long  deeply  cut  mouth. 

"I  trust,"  he  said,  "that  you  will  not  think  me  im- 
pertinent, but  it  occurred  to  me  that  you  have  noticed 
some  apparent  interest  of  mine  in  your  movements 
since  you  arrived  on  the  boat." 

Lucille  nodded. 

"It  is  true,"  she  answered.  "That  is  why  I  came 
and  stood  by  your  side.  What  do  you  want  with  me  ?" 

"Nothing,  madam,"  he  answered.  "I  am  here  al- 
together in  your  interests.  If  you  should  want  help 
I  shall  be  somewhere  near  you  for  the  next  few  hours. 
Do  not  hesitate  to  appeal  to  me.  My  mission  here  is 
to  be  your  protector  should  you  need  one." 

Lucille's  eyes  grew  bright,  and  her  heart  beat 
quickly. 

"Tell  me,"  she  said,  "who  sent  you?" 

He  smiled. 

"I  think  that  you  know,"  he  answered.  "One  who 
I  can  assure  you  will  never  allow  you  to  suffer  any 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       315 

harm.  I  have  exceeded  my  instructions  in  speaking 
to  you,  but  I  fancied  that  you  were  looking  worried. 
You  need  not.  I  can  assure  you  that  you  need  have 
no  cause." 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"I  knew,"  she  said,  "that  those  telegrams  were 
forgeries." 

He  looked  carefully  around. 

"I  know  nothing  about  any  telegrams,"  he  said, 
"but  I  am  here  to  see  that  no  harm  comes  to  you,  and 
I  promise  you  that  it  shall  not.  Your  friend  is  look- 
ing out  of  the  cabin  door.  I  think  we  may  congratu- 
late ourselves,  madam,  on  an  excellent  passage." 

Lady  Carey  disembarked,  a  complete  wreck,  lean- 
ing on  the  arm  of  her  maid,  and  with  a  bottle  of  smell- 
ing salts  clutched  in  her  hand.  She  slept  all  the  way 
in  the  train,  and  only  woke  up  when  they  were  nearing 
Paris.  She  looked  at  Lucille  in  astonishment. 

"Why,  what  on  earth  have  you  been  doing  to  your- 
self?" she  exclaimed.  "You  look  disgustingly  fit  and 
well." 

Lucille  laughed  softly. 

"Why  not?  I  have  had  a  nap,  and  we  are  almost 
at  Paris.  I  only  want  a  bath  and  a  change  of  clothes 
to  feel  perfectly  fresh." 

But  Lady  Carey  was  suspicious. 

"Have  you  seen  any  one  you  know  upon  the  train  ?" 
she  asked. 

Lucille  shook  her  head. 

"Not  a  soul.  A  little  man  whom  I  spoke  to  on  the 
steamer  brought  me  some  coffee.  That  is  all." 


316      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

Lady  Carey  yawned  and  shook  out  her  skirts. 

"I  suppose  I'm  getting  old."  she  said.  "I  couldn't 
look  as  you  do  with  as  much  on  my  mind  as  you  must 
have,  and  after  travelling  all  night  too." 

Lucille  laughed. 

"After  all,"  she  said,  "you  know  that  I  am  a  pro- 
fessional optimist,  and  I  have  faith  in  my  luck.  I 
have  been  thinking  matters  over  calmly,  and,  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  I  am  not  in  the  least  alarmed." 

Lady  Carey  looked  at  her  curiously. 

"Has  the  optimism  been  imbibed,"  she  asked,  "or 
is  it  spontaneous?" 

Lucille  smiled. 

"Unless  the  little  man  in  the  plaid  mackintosh 
poured  it  into  the  coffee  with  the  milk,"  she  said,  "I 
could  not  possibly  have  imbibed  it,  for  I  haven't 
spoken  to  another  soul  since  we  left." 

"Paris!  Here  we  are,  thank  goodness.  Celeste 
can  see  the  things  through  the  customs.  She  is  quite 
used  to  it.  We  are  going  to  the  Ritz,  I  suppose !" 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

AT    eight    o'clock    in    the    evening    Lucillg 
knocked  at  the  door  of  Lady   Carey's 
suite  of  rooms  at  the  hotel.     There  was 
no    answer.     A   chambermaid   who    was 
near  came  smiling  up. 

"Miladi.  has,  I  think,  descended  for  dinner,"  she 


Lucille  looked  at  her  watch.  She  saw  that  she  was 
a  few  minutes  late,  so  she  descended  to  the  restaurant, 
The  small  table  which  they  had  reserved  was,  how- 
ever, still  unoccupied.  Lucille  told  the  waiter  that  she 
would  wait  for  a  few  moments,  and  sent  for  an  Eng- 
lish newspaper. 

Lady  Carey  did  not  appear.  A  quarter  of  an  hour 
passed.  The  head  waiter  came  up  with  a  benign 
smile. 

"Madam  will  please  to  be  served?"  he  suggested, 
with  a  bow. 

"I  am  waiting  for  my  friend  Lady  Carey,"  Lucille 
answered.  "I  understood  that  she  had  come  down. 
Perhaps  you  will  send  and  see  if  she  is  in  the  reading-: 
room." 

"With  much  pleasure,  madam,"  the  man  answered, 

In  a  few  minutes  he  returned. 

"Madam's  friend  was  the  Lady  Carey?"  he  asked. 

Lucille  nodded. 


318      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"Yes." 

The  man  was  gently  troubled. 

"But,  Miladi  Carey,"  he  said,  "has  left  more  than 
an  hour  ago." 

Lucille  looked  up,  astonished. 

"Left  the  hotel?"  she  exclaimed. 

"But  yes,  madam,"  he  exclaimed.  "Miladi  Carey 
left  to  catch  the  boat  train  at  Calais  for  England." 

"It  is  impossible,"  Lucille  answered.  "We  only 
arrived  at  midday." 

"I  will  inquire  again,"  the  man  declared.  "But  it 
was  in  the  office  that  they  told  me  so." 

"They  told  you  quite  correctly,"  said  a  familiar 
voice.  "I  have  come  to  take  her  place.  Countess,  I 
trust  that  in  me  you  will  recognise  an  efficient  sub- 
stitute." 

It  was  the  Prince  of  Saxe  Leinitzer  who  was  calmly 
seating  himself  opposite  to  her.  The  waiter,  with  the 
discretion  of  his  class,  withdrew  for  a  few  paces  and 
stood  awaiting  orders.  Lucille  looked  across  at  him 
in  amazement. 

"You  here?"  she  exclaimed,  "and  Muriel  gone? 
What  does  this  mean?" 

The  Prince  leaned  forward. 

"It  means,"  he  said,  "that  after  you  left  I  was 
in  torment.  I  felt  that  you  had  no  one  with  you  who 
could  be  of  assistance  supposing  the  worst  happened. 
Muriel  is  all  very  well,  but  she  is  a  woman,  and  she  has 
no  diplomacy,  no  resource.  I  felt,  Lucille,  that  I 
should  not  be  happy  unless  I  myself  saw  you  into 
safety." 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       319 

"So  you  followed  us  here,"  Lucille  remarked 
quietly. 

"Exactly !  You  do  not  blame  me.  It  was  for  your 
sake — as  well  as  my  own." 

"And  Muriel — why  has  she  left  me  without  fare- 
well— without  warning  of  any  sort?" 

The  Prince  smiled  and  stroked  his  fair  moustache. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "it  is  rather  an  awkward  thing 
for  me  to  explain,  but  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Muriel 
was  a  little — more  than  a  little — annoyed  at  my  com- 
ing. She  has  no  right  to  be,  but — well,  you  know, 
she  is  what  you  call  a  monopolist.  She  and  I  have 
been  friends  for  many  years." 

"I  understand  perfectly  what  you  have  wished  to 
convey,"  Lucille  said.  "But  what  I  do  not  under- 
stand are  the  exact  reasons  which  brought  you 
here." 

The  Prince  took  up  the  carte  de  jour. 

"As  we  dine,"  he  said,  "I  will  tell  you.  You  will 
permit  me  to  order?" 

Lucille  rose  to  her  feet. 

"For  yourself,  certainly,"  she  answered.  "As  for 
me,  I  have  accepted  no  invitation  to  dine  with  you, 
nor  do  I  propose  to  do  so." 

The  Prince  frowned. 

"Be  reasonable,  Lucille,"  he  pleaded.  "I  must  talk 
with  }'ou.  There  are  important  plans  to  be  made.  I 
have  a  great  deal  to  say  to  you.  Sit  down." 

Lucille  looked  across  at  him  with  a  curious  smile 
upon  her  lips. 

"You  have  a  good  deal  to  say  to  me?"  she  re- 


320      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

marked.  "Yes,  I  will  believe  that.  But  of  the  truth 
how  much,  I  wonder?" 

"By  and  bye,"  he  said,  "}-ou  will  judge  me  differ- 
ently. For  hors  ffoeuvres  what  do  you  say  to  oeufs 
de  pluvier?  Then " 

"Pardon  me,"  she  interrupted,  "I  am  not  inter- 
ested in  your  dinner !" 

"In  our  dinner,"  he  ventured  gently. 

"I  am  not  dining  with  you,"  she  declared  firmly. 
"If  you  insist  upon  remaining  here  I  shall  have  some- 
thing served  in  my  room.  You  know  quite  well  that 
we  are  certain  to  be  recognised.  One  would  imagine 
that  this  was  a  deliberate  attempt  on  your  part  to 
compromise  me." 

"Lucille,"  he  said,  "do  not  be  foolish !  Why  do  you 
persist  in  treating  me  as  though  I  were  your  perse- 
cutor?" 

"Because  you  are,"  she  said  coolly. 

"It  is  ridiculous,"  he  declared.  "You  are  in  the 
most  serious  danger,  and  I  have  come  only  to  save 
you.  I  can  do  it,  and  I  will.  But  listen — not  unless 
you  change  your  demeanour  towards  me." 

She  laughed  scornfully.  She  had  risen  to  her  feet 
now,  and  he  was  perforce  compelled  to  follow  her  ex- 
ample. 

"Is  that  a  challenge?"  she  asked. 

"You  may  take  it  as  such  if  you  will,"  he  an- 
swered, with  a  note  of  sullenness  in  his  tone.  "You 
know  very  well  that  I  have  but  to  lift  my  finger  and 
the  gendarmes  will  be  here.  Yes,  we  will  call  it  a  chal- 
lenge. All  my  life  I  have  wanted  you.  Now  I  think 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       321 

that  my  time  has  come.  Even  Souspennier  has  de- 
serted you.  You  are  alone,  and  let  me  tell  you  that 
danger  is  closer  at  your  heels  than  you  know  of.  I 
can  save  you,  and  I  will.  But  I  have  a  price,  and  it 
must  be  paid." 

"If  I  refuse?"  she  asked. 

"I  send  for  the  chief  of  the  police." 

"She  looked  him  up  and  down,  a  measured,  merci- 
less survey.  He  was  a  tall,  big  man,  but  he  seemed 
to  shrink  into  insignificance. 

"You  are  a  coward  and  a  bully,"  she  said  slowly. 
"You  know  quite  well  that  I  am  innocent  of  any 
knowledge  even  concerning  Duson's  death.  But  I 
would  sooner  meet  my  fate,  whatever  it  might  be,  than 
suffer  even  the  touch  of  your  fingers  upon  my  hand. 
Your  presence  is  hateful  to  me.  Send  for  your  chief 
of  the  police.  String  your  lies  together  as  you  will. 
I  am  satisfied." 

She  left  him  and  swept  from  the  room,  a  spot  of 
colour  burning  in  her  cheeks,  her  eyes  lit  with  fire. 
The  pride  of  her  race  had  asserted  itself.  She  felt 
no  longer  any  fear.  She  only  desired  to  sever  herself 
at  once  and  completely  from  all  association  with  thi& 
man.  In  the  hall  she  sent  for  her  maid. 

"Fetch  my  cloak  and  jewel  case,  Celeste,"  she  or- 
dered. "I  am  going  across  to  the  Bristol.  You  can 
return  for  the  other  luggage." 

"But,  madam " 

"Do  as  I  say  at  once,"  Lucille  ordered. 

The  girl  hesitated  and  then  obeyed.  Lucille  found 
herself  suddenly  addressed  in  a  quiet  tone  by  a  man 


who  had  been  sitting  in  an  easy-chair,  half  hidden  by 
a  palm  tree. 

""\Jfill  you  favour  me,  madam,  with  a  moment's  con- 
versation?" 

Lucille  turned  round.  She  recognised  at  once  the 
man  with  whom  she  had  conversed  upon  the  steamer. 
In  the  quietest  form  of  evening  dress,  there  was  some- 
thing noticeable  in  the  man's  very  insignificance.  He 
seemed  a  little  out  of  his  element.  Lucille  had  a  sud- 
den inspiration.  The  man  was  a  detective. 

"What  do  you  wish  to  say?"  she  asked,  half  doubt- 
fully. 

"I  overheard,"  he  remarked,  "your  order  to  your 
maid.  She  had  something  to  say  to  you,  but  you 
gave  her  no  opportunity." 

"And  you?"  she  asked,  "what  do  you  wish  to  say?" 

"I  wish  to  advise  you,"  he  said,  "not  to  leave  the 
hotel." 

She  looked  at  him  doubtfully. 

"You  cannot  understand,"  she  said,  "uhy  I  wish 
to  leave  it.  I  have  no  alternative." 

"Nevertheless,"  he  said,  "I  hope  that  you  will 
change  your  mind." 

"Are  you  a  detective?"  she  asked  abruptly. 

"Madam  is  correct !" 

The  flush  of  colour  faded  from  her  cheeks. 

"I  presume,  then,"  she  said,  "that  I  am  under  your 
surveillance  ?" 

"In  a  sense,"  he  admitted,  "it  is  true." 

"On  the  steamer,"  she  remarked,  "you  spoke  as 
though  your  interest  in  me  was  not  inimical." 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       323 

"Nor  is  it,"  he  answered  promptly.  "You  are  in 
a  difficult  position,  but  you  may  find  things  not  so 
bad  as  you  imagine.  At  present  my  advice  to%£ou  is 
this :  Go  upstairs  to  your  room  and  stay  there." 

The  little  man  had  a  compelling  manner.  Lucille 
made  her  way  towards  the  elevator. 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,"  she  murmured  bitterly,  "I 
am  not,  I  suppose,  permitted  to  leave  the  hotel?" 

"Madam  puts  the  matter  bluntly,"  he  answered; 
"but  certainly  if  you  should  insist  upon  leaving,  it 
would  be  my  duty  to  follow  you." 

She  turned  away  from  him  and  entered  the  elevator. 
The  door  of  her  room  was  slightly  ajar,  and  she  saw 
that  a  waiter  was  busy  at  a  small  round  table.  She 
looked  at  him  in  surprise.  He  was  arranging  places 
for  two. 

"Who  gave  you  your  orders?"  she  asked. 

"But  it  was  monsieur,"  the  man  answered,  with  a 
low  bow.  "Dinner  for  two." 

"Monsieur?"  she  repeated.     "What  monsieur?" 

"I  am  the  culprit,"  a  familiar  voice  answered  from 
the  depths  of  an  easy-chair,  whose  back  was  to  her. 
"I  was  very  hungry,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  under 
the  circumstances  you  would  probably  not  have  dined 
either.  I  hope  that  you  will  like  what  I  have  ordered. 
The  plovers'  eggs  look  delicious." 

She  gave  a  little  cry  of  joy.     It  was  Mr.  Sabin. 


CHAPTER  XLH. 


^HE  Prince  dined    carefully,  but  with    less 

than  his  usual  appetite.     Afterwards  he 

lit  a  cigarette  and  strolled  for  a  moment 

into  the  lounge.     Celeste,  who  was  waiting 

for  him,  glided  at  once  to  his  side. 

"Monsieur !"  she  whispered.  "I  have  been  here  for 
one  hour." 

He  nodded. 

"Well?" 

"Monsieur  le  Due  has  arrived." 

The  Prince  turned  sharply  round. 

"Who?" 

"Monsieur  le  Due  de  Souspennier.  He  calls  himself 
no  longer  Mr.  Sabin." 

A  dull  flush  of  angry  colour  rose  almost,  to  his 
temples. 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  before?"  he  exclaimed. 

"Monsieur  was  in  the  restaurant,"  she  answered. 
"It  was  impossible  for  me  to  do  anything  but  wait." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"Alas !  he  is  with  madam,"  the  girl  answered. 

The  Prince  was  very  profane.  He  started  at  once 
for  the  elevator.  In  a  moment  or  two  he  presented 
himself  at  Lucille's  sitting-room.  They  were  still 
lingering  over  their  dinner.  Mr.  Sabin  welcomed 
him  with  grave  courtesy. 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       325 

"The  Prince  is  in  time  to  take  his  liqueur  with  us," 
he  remarked,  rising.  "Will  you  take  fin  champagne, 
Prince,  or  Chartreuse?  I  recommend  the  fin  cham- 
pagne." 

The  Prince  bowed  his  thanks.  He  was  white  to  the 
lips  with  the  effort  for  self-mastery. 

"I  congratulate  you,  Mr.  Sabin,"  he  said,  "upon 
your  opportune  arrival.  You  will  be  able  to  help  Lu- 
cille through  the  annoyance  to  which  I  deeply  regret 
that  she  should  be  subjected." 

Mr.  Sabin  gently  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"Annoyance !"  he  repeated.  "I  fear  that  I  do  not 
quite  understand." 

The  Prince  smiled. 

"Surely  Lucille  has  told  you,"  he  said,  "of  the 
perilous  position  in  which  she  finds  herself." 

"My  wife,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "has  told  me  nothing. 
You  alarm  me." 

The  Prince  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  deeply  regret  to  tell  you,"  he  said,  "that  the 
law  has  proved  too  powerful  for  me.  I  can  no  longer 
stand  between  her  and  what  I  fear  may  prove  a  most 
unpleasant  episode.  Lucille  will  be  arrested  within 
the  hour." 

"Upon  what  charge?"  Mr.  Sabin  asked. 

"The  murder  of  Duson." 

Mr.  Sabin  laughed  very  softly,  very  gently,  but 
with  obvious  genuineness. 

"You  are  joking,  Prince,"  he  exclaimed. 

"I  regret  to  say,"  the  Prince  answered,  "that  you 
will  find  it  very  far  from  a  joking  matter." 


826      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

Mr.  Sabin  was  suddenly  stern. 

"Prince  of  Saxe  Leinitzer,"  he  said,  "you  are  a 
coward  and  and  a  bully." 

The  Prince  started  forward  with  clenched  fist.  Mr. 
Sabin  had  no  weapon,  but  he  did  not  flinch. 

"You  can  frighten  women,"  he  said,  "with  a  bogie 
such  as  this,  but  you  have  no  longer  a  woman  to  deal 
with.  You  and  I  know  that  such  a  charge  is  absurd — 
but  you  little  know  the  danger  to  which  you  expose 
yourself  by  trifling  with  this  subject.  Duson  left  a 
letter  addressed  to  me  in  which  he  announced  his  rea- 
sons for  committing  suicide." 

"Suicide?" 

"Yes.  He  preferred  suicide  to  murder,  even  at  the 
bidding  of  the  Prince  of  Saxe  Leinitzer.  He  wrote 
and  explained  these  things  to  me — and  the  letter  is 
in  safe  hands.  The  arrest  of  Lucille,  my  dear  Prince, 
would  met  a  the  ruin  of  your  amiable  society." 

"This  letter,"  the  Prince  said  slowly,  "why  was 
it  not  produced  at  the  inquest?  Where  is  it  now?" 

"It  is  deposited  in  a  sealed  packet  with  the  Earl  of 
Deringham,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered.  "As  to  producing 
it  at  the  inquest — I  thought  it  more  discreet  not  to. 
I  leave  you  to  judge  of  my  reasons.  But  I  can  assure 
you  that  your  fears  for  my  wife's  safety  have  been 
wholly  misplaced.  There  is  not  the  slightest  reason 
for  her  to  hurry  off  to  America.  We  may  take  a 
little  trip  there  presently,  but  not  just  yet." 

The  Prince  made  a  mistake.    He  lost  his  temper. 

"You!"  he  cried,  "you  can  go  to  America  when 
you  like,  and  stay  there.  Europe  has  had  enough  of 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       327 

you  with  your  hare-brained  schemes  and  foolish  fail- 
ures. But  Lucille  does  not  leave  this  country.  We 
have  need  of  her.  I  forbid  her  to  leave.  Do  you  hear? 
In  the  name  of  the  Order  I  command  her  to  remain 
here." 

Mr.  Sabin  was  quite  calm,  but  his  face  was  full  of 
terrible  things. 

"Prince,"  he  said,  "if  I  by  any  chance  numbered 
myself  amongst  your  friends  I  would  warn  you  that 
you  yourself  are  a  traitor  to  your  Order.  You  prosti- 
tute a  great  cause  when  you  stoop  to  use  its  machinery 
to  assist  your  own  private  vengeance.  I  ask  you  for 
your  own  sake  to  consider  your  words.  Lucille  is  mine 
— mine  she  will  remain,  even  though  you  should  de- 
scend to  something  more  despicable,  more  cowardly 
than  ordinary  treason,  to  wrest  her  from  me.  You 
reproach  me  with  the  failures  of  my  life.  Great  they 
may  have  been,  but  if  you  attempt  this  you  will  find 
that  I  am  not  yet  an  impotent  person." 

The  Prince  was  white  with  rage.  The  sight  of 
Lucille  standing  by  Mr.  Sabin's  side,  her  hand  lightly 
resting  upon  his,  her  dark  eyes  full  of  inscrutable 
tenderness,  maddened  him.  He  was  flouted  and  ig- 
nored. He  was  carried  away  by  a  storm  of  passion. 
He  tore  a  sheet  of  paper  from  his  pocket  book,  and 
unlocking  a  small  gold  case  at  the  end  of  his  watch 
chain,  shook  from  it  a  pencil  with  yellow  crayon.  Mr. 
Sabin  leaned  over  towards  him. 

"You  sign  it  at  your  peril,  Prince,"  he  said.  "It 
will  mean  worse  things  than  that  for  you." 


328      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

For  a  second  he  hesitated.  Lucille  also  leaned 
towards  him. 

"Prince,"  she  said,  "have  I  not  kept  my  vows  faith- 
fully? Think!  I  came  from  America  at  a  moment's 
notice ;  I  left  my  husband  without  even  a  word  of  fare- 
well; I  entered  upon  a  hateful  task,  and  though  to 
think  of  it  now  makes  me  loathe  myself — I  succeeded. 
I  have  kept  my  vows,  I  have  done  my  duty.  Be  gen- 
erous now,  and  let  me  go." 

The  sound  of  her  voice  maddened  him.  A  passion- 
ate, arbitrary  man,  to  whom  nothing  in  life  had  been 
denied,  to  be  baulked  in  this  great  desire  of  his  latter 
days  was  intolerable.  He  made  no  answer  to  either  of 
them.  He  wrote  a  few  lines  with  the  yellow  crayon 
and  passed  them  silently  across  to  Lucille. 

Her  face  blanched.  She  stretched  out  an  unwilling 
hand.  But  Mr.  Sabin  intervened.  He  took  the  paper 
from  the  Prince's  hand,  and  calmly  tore  it  into  frag- 
ments. There  was  a  moment's  breathless  silence. 

"Victor!"  Lucille  cried.  "Oh,  what  have  you 
done!" 

The  Prince's  face  lightened  with  an  evil  joy. 

"We  now,  I  think,"  he  said,  "understand  one  an- 
other. You  will  permit  me  to  wish  you  a  very  pleasant 
evening,  and  a  speedy  leave-taking." 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled. 

"Many  thanks,  my  dear  Prince,"  he  said  lightly. 
"Make  haste  and  complete  your  charming  little  ar- 
rangements. Let  me  beg  of  you  to  avoid  bungling 
this  time.  Remember  that  there  is  not  in  the  whole  of 
Europe  to-day  a  man  more  dangerous  to  you  than  I." 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       329 

The  Prince  had  departed.  Mr.  Sabin  lit  a  cigar- 
ette and  stood  on  the  hearthrug.  His  eyes  were  bright 
with  the  joy  of  fighting. 

"Lucille,"  he  said,  "I  see  that  you  have  not  touched 
your  liqueur.  Oblige  me  by  drinking  it.  You  will 
find  it  excellent." 

She  came  over  to  him  and  hung  upon  his  arm.  He 
threw  his  cigarette  away  and  kissed  her  upon  the 
lips. 

"Victor,"  she  murmured,  "I  am  afraid.  You  have 
been  rash!" 

"Dearest,"  he  answered,  "it  is  better  to  die  fighting 
than  to  stand  aside  and  watch  evil  things.  But  after 
all,  there  is  no  fear.  Come !  Your  cloak  and  dressing 
case !" 

"You  have  plans?"  she  exclaimed,  springing  up. 

"Plans?"  He  laughed  at  her  a  little  reproachfully. 
"My  dear  Lucille!  A  carriage  awaits  us  outside,  a 
special  train  with  steam  up  at  the  Gard  de  L'ouest. 
This  is  precisely  the  contingency  for  which  I  have 
planned." 

"Oh,  you  are  wonderful,  Victor,"  she  murmured 
as  she  drew  on  her  coat.  "But  what  corner  of  the 
earth  is  there  where  we  should  be  safe?" 

"I  am  going,"  Mr.  Sabin  said,  "to  try  and  make 
every  corner  of  the  earth  safe." 

She  was  bewildered,  but  he  only  laughed  and  held 
open  the  door  for  her.  Mr.  Sabin  made  no  secret  of 
his  departure.  He  lingered  for  a  moment  in  the  door- 
way to  light  a  cigarette,  he  even  stopped  to  whisper 
a  few  words  to  the  little  man  in  plain  dinner  clothes 


330       THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

who  was  lounging  in  the  doorway.  But  when  they  had 
once  left  the  hotel  they  drove  fast. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  Paris  was  behind  them. 
They  were  travelling  in  a  royal  saloon  and  at  a  fabu- 
ulous  cost,  for  in  France  they  are  not  fond  of  special 
trains.  But  Mr.  Sabin  was  very  happy.  At  least  he 
had  escaped  an  ignominious  defeat.  It  was  left  to  him 
to  play  the  great  card. 

"And  now,"  Lucille  said,  coming  out  from  her  little 
bed-chamber  which  the  femme  de  chambre  was  busy 
preparing,  "suppose  you  tell  me  where  we  are  going." 

Mr.  Sabin  smiled. 

"Do  not  be  alarmed,"  he  said,  "even  though  it  will 
sound  to  you  the  least  likely  place  in  the  world.  We 
are  going  to  Berlin." 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 


^1  HE  great  room  was  dimly  enough  lit,  for  the 
windows  looking  out  upon  the  street  were 
high  and  heavily  curtained.  The  man 
who  sat  at  the  desk  was  almost  in  the 
shadow.  Yet  every  now  and  then  a  shaft  of  sunlight 
fell  across  his  pale,  worn  face.  A  strange  combina- 
tion this  of  the  worker,  the  idealist,  the  man  of  affairs. 
From  outside  came  the  hum  of  a  great  city.  At  times, 
too,  there  came  to  his  ears  as  he  sat  here  the  roar  of 
nations  at  strife,  the  fierce  underneath  battle  of  the 
great  countries  of  the  world  struggling  for  su- 
premacy. And  here  at  this  cabinet  this  man  sat  often, 
and  listened,  strenuous,  romantic,  with  the  heart  of 
a  lion  and  the  lofty  imagination  of  an  eagle,  he  steered 
unswervingly  on  to  her  destiny  a  great  people. 
Others  might  rest,  but  never  he. 

He  looked  up  from  the  letter  spread  out  before  him. 
Lucille  was  seated  at  his  command,  a  few  yards  away. 
Mr.  Sabin  stood  respectfully  before  him. 

"Monsieur  le  Due,"  he  said,  "this  letter,  penned 
by  my  illustrious  father  to  you,  is  sufficient  to  secure 
my  good  offices.  In  what  manner  can  I  serve  you?" 

"Your  Majesty,"  Mr.  Sabin  answered,  "in  the  first 
place  by  receiving  me  here.  In  the  second  by  allow- 
ing me  to  lay  before  you  certain  grave  and  very 
.serious  charges  against  the  Order  of  the  Yellow 


332      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

Craj-on,  of  which  your  Majesty  is  the  titular 
head." 

"The  Order  of  the  Yellow  Crayon,"  the  Emperor 
said  thoughtfully,  "is  a  society  composed  of  aristo- 
crats pledged  to  resist  the  march  of  socialism.  It  is 
true  that  I  am  the  titular  head  of  this  organisation. 
What  have  you  to  say  about  it?" 

"Only  that  your  Majesty  has  been  wholly  de- 
ceived," Mr.  Sabin  said  respectfully,  "concerning  the 
methods  and  the  working  of  this  society.  Its  incep- 
tion and  inauguration  were  above  reproach.  I  myself 
at  once  became  a  member.  My  wife,  Countess  of 
Radantz,  and  sole  representative  of  that  ancient  fam- 
ily, has  been  one  all  her  life." 

The  Emperor  inclined  his  head  towards  Lucille. 

"I  see  no  reason,"  he  said,  "when  our  capitals  are 
riddled  with  secret  societies*  all  banded  together 
against  us,  why  the  great  families  of  Europe  should 
not  in  their  turn  come  together  and  display  a  united 
front  against  this  common  enemy.  The  Order  of  the 
Yellow  Crayon  has  had  more  than  my  support.  It 
has  had  the  sanction  of  my  name.  Tell  me  what  you 
have  against  it." 

"I  have  grave  things  to  say  concerning  it,"  Mr. 
Sabin  answered,  "and  concerning  those  who  have  wil- 
fully deceived  your  Majesty.  The  influences  to  be 
wielded  by  the  society  were  mainly,  I  believe,  wealth, 
education,  and  influence.  There  was  no  mention  made 
of  murder,  of  an  underground  alliance  with  the 
'gamins'  of  Paris,  the  dregs  of  humanity,  prisoners, 
men  skilled  in  the  art  of  secret  death." 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       333 

The  Emperor's  tone  was  stern,  almost  harsh. 

"Due  de  Souspennier,  what  are  these  things  which 
you  are  saying?"  he  asked. 

"Your  Majesty,  I  speak  the  truth,"  Mr.  Sabin  an- 
swered firmly.  "There  are  in  the  Order  of  the  Yellow 
Crayon  three  degrees  of  membership.  The  first,  which 
alone  your  Majesty  knows  of,  simply  corresponds  with 
what  in  England  is  known  as  the  Primrose  League. 
The  second  knows  that  beneath  is  another  organisa- 
tion pledged  to  frustrate  the  advance  of  socialism,  if 
necessary  by  the  use  of  their  own  weapons.  The  third, 
whose  meetings  and  signs  and  whose  whole  organisa- 
tion is  carried  on  secretly,  is  allied  in  every  capital  in 
Europe  with  criminals  and  murderers.  With  its  great 
wealth  it  has  influence  in  America  as  well  as  in  every 
city  of  the  world  where  there  are  police  to  be  suborned, 
or  desperate  men  to  be  bought  for  tools.  At  the  direc- 
tion of  this  third  order  Lavinski  died  suddenly  in  the 
Hungarian  House  of  Parliament,  Herr  Krettingen 
was  involved  in  a  duel,  the  result  of  which  was  as- 
sured beforehand,  and  Reginald  Brott,  the  great  Eng- 
lish statesman,  was  ruined  and  disgraced.  I  myself 
have  just  narrowly  escaped  death  at  his  hands,  and 
in  my  place  my  servant  has  been  driven  to  death.  Of 
all  these  things,  your  Majesty,  I  have  brought 
proofs." 

The  Emperor's  face  was  like  a  carven  image,  but 
his  tone  was  cold  and  terrible. 

"If  these  things  have  been  sanctioned,"  he  said, 
"by  those  who  are  responsible  for  my  having  become 
the  head  of  the  Order,  they  shall  feel  my  vengeance.'* 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

"Your  Majesty,"  Mr.  Sabin  said  earnestly,  "a 
chance  disclosure,  and  all  might  come  to  light.  I  my- 
self could  blazon  the  story  through  Europe.  Those 
who  are  responsible  for  the  third  degree  of  the  Order 
of  the  Yellow  Crayon,  and  for  your  Majesty's 
ignorance  concerning  its  existence,  have  trifled  with 
the  destiny  of  the  greatest  sovereign  of  modern  times." 

"The  Prince  of  Saxe  Leinitzer,"  the  Emperor  said, 
"is  the  acting  head  of  the  Order." 

"The  Prince  of  Saxe  Leinitzer,"  Mr.  Sabin  said 
firmly,  "is  responsible  for  the  existence  of  the  third 
degree.  It  is  he  who  has  connected  the  society  with 
a  system  of  corrupt  police  or  desperate  criminals  in 
every  great  city.  It  is  the  Prince  of  Saxe  Leinitzer, 
your  Majesty,  and  his  horde  of  murderers  from  whom 
I  have  come  to  seek  your  Majesty's  protection.  I  have 
yet  another  charge  to  make  against  him.  He  has 
made,  and  is  making  still,  use  of  the  society  to  further 
his  own  private  intrigues.  In  the  name  of  the  Order 
he  brought  my  wife  from  America.  She  faithfully 
carried  out  the  instructions  of  the  Council.  She 
brought  about  the  ruin  of  Reginald  Brott.  By  the 
rules  of  the  society  she  was  free  then  to  return  to  her 
home.  The  Prince,  who  had  been  her  suitor,  declined 
to  let  her  go.  My  life  was  attempted.  The  story  of 
the  Prince's  treason  is  here,  with  the  necessary  proofs. 
I  know  that  orders  have  been  given  to  the  hired  mur- 
derers of  the  society  for  my  assassination.  My  life 
even  here  is  probably  an  uncertain  thing.  But  I  have 
told  your  Majesty  the  truth,  and  the  papers  which  I 
have  brought  with  me  contain  proof  of  my  words." 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       335 

The  Emperor  struck  a  bell  and  gave  a  few  orders 
to  the  young  officer  who  immediately  answered  it. 
Then  he  turned  again  to  Mr.  Sabin. 

"I  have  summoned  Saxe  Leinitzer  to  Berlin," 
he  said.  "These  matters  shall  be  gone  into  most 
thoroughly.  In  the  meantime  what  can  I  do  for 
you?" 

"We  will  await  the  coming  of  the  Prince,"  Mr. 
Sabin  answered  grimly. 


Carey  passed  from  her  bath-room  into  a  lux- 
urious little  dressing-room.  Her  letters  and  coffee 
were  on  a  small  table  near  the  fire,  an  easy-chair  was 
drawn  up  to  the  hearthrug.  She  fastened  the  girdle 
of  her  dressing-gown,  and  dismissed  her  maid. 

"I  will  ring  for  you  in  half  an  hour,  Annette,"  she 
said.  "See  that  I  am  not  disturbed." 

On  her  way  to  the  fireplace  she  paused  for  a  mo- 
ment in  front  of  a  tall  looking-glass,  and  looked  stead- 
ily at  her  own  reflection. 

"I  suppose,"  she  murmured  to  herself,  "that  I  am 
looking  at  my  best  now.  I  slept  well  last  night,  and 
a  bath  gives  one  colour,  and  white  is  so  becoming. 
Still,  I  don't  know  why  I  failed.  She  may  be  a  little 
better  looking,  but  my  figure  is  as  good.  I  can  talk 
better,  I  have  learnt  how  to  keep  a  man  from  feeling 
dull,  and  there  is  my  reputation.  Because  I  played 
at  war  correspondence,  wore  a  man's  clothes,  and 
didn't  shriek  when  I  was  under  fire,  people  have  chosen 
to  make  a  heroine  of  me.  That  should  have  counted 
for  something  with  him  —  and  it  didn't.  I  could  have 


taken  my  choice  of  any  man  in  London — and  I  wanted 
him.  And  I  have  failed !" 

She  threw  herself  back  in  her  easy-chair  and 
laughed  softly. 

"Failed!  What  an  ugly  word!  He  is  old,  and  he 
limps,  and  I — well,  I  was  never  a  very  bashful  person. 
He  was  beautifully  polite,  but  he  wouldn't  have  any- 
thing to  say  to  me." 

She  began  to  tear  open  her  letters  savagely. 

"Well,  it  is  over.  If  ever  anybody  speaks  to  me 
about  it  I  think  that  I  shall  kill  them.  That  fool 
Saxe  Leinitzer  will  stroke  his  beastly  moustache,  and 
smile  at  me  out  of  the  corners  of  his  eyes.  The  Dorset 
woman,  too — bah,  I  shall  go  away.  What  is  it,  An- 
nette?" 

"His  Highness  the  Prince  of  Saxe  Leinitzer  has 
called,  milady." 

"Called!  Does  he  regard  this  as  a  call?"  she  ex- 
claimed, glancing  towards  the  clock.  "Tell  him,  An- 
nette, that  your  mistress  does  not  receive  at  such  an 
hour.  Be  quick,  child.  Of  course  I  know  that  he  gave 
you  a  sovereign  to  persuade  me  that  it  was  important, 
but  I  won't  see  him,  so  be  off." 

"But  yes,  milady,"  Annette  answered,  and  disap- 
peared. 

Lady  Carey  sipped  her  coffee. 

"I  think,"  she  said  reflectively,  "that  it  must  be 
Melton." 

Annette  reappeared. 

"Milady,"  she  exclaimed,  "His  Highness  insisted 
upon  my  bringing  you  this  card.  He  was  so  strange 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       337 

in  his  manner,  milady,  that  I  thought  it  best  to 
obey." 

Lady  Carey  stretched  out  her  hand.  A  few  words 
were  scribbled  on  the  back  of  his  visiting  card  in  yel- 
low crayon.  She  glanced  at  it,  tore  the  card  up,  and 
threw  the  pieces  into  the  fire. 

"My  shoes  and  stockings,  Annette,"  she  said,  "and 
just  a  morning  wrap — anything  >vill  do." 

The  Prince  was  walking  restlessly  up  and  down  the 
room,  when  Lady  Carey  entered.  He  welcomed  her 
with  a  little  cry  of  relief. 

"Heavens !"  he  exclaimed.  "I  thought  that  you 
were  never  coming." 

"I  was  in  no  hurry,"  she  answered  calmly.  "I  could 
guess  your  news,  so  I  had  not  even  the  spur  of 
curiosity." 

He  stopped  short. 

"You  have  heard  nothing!    It  is  not  possible?" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"No,  but  I  know  you,  and  I  know  him.  I  am  quite 
prepared  to  hear  that  you  are  outwitted.  Indeed,  to 
judge  from  }-our  appearance  there  can  be  no  doubt 
about  it.  Remember  I  warned  you." 

The  Prince  was  pale  with  fury. 

"No  one  could  foresee  this,"  he  exclaimed.  "He 
has  walked  into  the  lion's  den." 

"Then,"  Lady  Carey  said,  "I  am  quite  prepared 
to  hear  that  he  tamed  the  lion." 

"If  there  was  one  person  living  whom  I  could  have 
sworn  that  this  man  dared  not  visit,  it  was  our  Em- 
peror," the  Prince  said.  "It  is  only  a  few  years  since. 


338      THE    YELLOW    CRAYOX 

through  this  man's  intrigues,  Germany  was  shamed 
before  the  world." 

"And  yet,"  Lady  Carey  said  sweetly,  "the  Em- 
peror has  received  him." 

"I  have  private  intelligence  from  Berlin,"  Saxe  Lei- 
nitzer  answered.  "Mr.  Sabin  was  in  possession  of  a 
letter  written  to  him  by  the  Emperor  Frederick,  thank- 
ing him  for  some  service  or  other;  and  the  letter  was 
a  talisman." 

"How  like  him,"  Lady  Carey  murmured,  "to  have 
the  letter." 

"What  a  pity,"  the  Prince  sneered,  "that  such  de~ 
votion  should  remain  unrewarded." 

Lady  Carey  sighed. 

"He  has  broken  my  heart,"  she  replied. 

The  Prince  threw  out  his  hands. 

"You  and  I,"  he  cried,  "why  do  we  behave  like 
children !  Let  us  start  afresh.  Listen !  The  Em- 
peror has  summoned  me  to  Berlin." 

"Dear  me,"  Lady  Carey  murmured.  "I  am  afraid 
you  will  have  a  most  unpleasant  visit." 

"I  dare  not  go,"  the  Prince  said  slowly.  "It  was 
I  who  induced  the  Emperor  to  become  the  titular  head 
of  this  cursed  Order.  Of  course  he  knew  nothing 
about  the  second  or  third  degree  members  and  our 
methods.  Without  doubt  he  is  fully  informed  now. 
I  dare  not  face  him." 

"What  shall  you  do?"  Lady  Carey  asked  curiously. 

"I  am  off  to  South  America,"  he  said.  "It  is  a  great 
undeveloped  country,  and  there  is  room  for  us  to  move 
there.  Muriel,  you  know  what  I  want  of  you." 


THE    YELLOW    CRAYON       339 

"My  good  man,"  she  answered,  "I  haven't  the  faint- 
est idea." 

"You  will  come  with  me,"  he  begged.  "You  will 
not  send  me  into  exile  so  lonely,  a  wanderer!  To- 
gether there  may  be  a  great  future  before  us.  You 
have  ambition,  you  love  intrigue,  excitement,  danger. 
None  of  these  can  you  find  here.  You  shall  come 
with  me.  You  shall  not  say  no.  Have  I  not  been  your 
devoted  slave?  Have " 

She  stopped  him.  Her  lips  were  parted  in  a  smile 
of  good-natured  scorn. 

"Don't  be  absurd,  Saxe  Leinitzer.  It  is  true  that 
I  love  intrigue,  excitement  and  danger.  That  is  what 
made  me  join  your  Order,  and  really  I  have  had  quite 
a  little  excitement  out  of  it,  for  which  I  suppose  I 
ought  to  thank  you.  But  as  for  the  rest,  why,  you 
are  talking  rubbish.  I  would  go  to  South  America 
to-morrow  with  the  right  man,  but  with  you,  why,  it 
won't  bear  talking  about.  It  makes  me  angry  to  think 
that  you  should  believe  me  capable  of  such  shocking 
taste  as  to  dream  of  going  away  with  you." 

He  flung  himself  from  the  room.  Lady  Carey  went 
back  to  her  coffee  and  letters.  She  sent  for  An- 
nette. 

"Annette,"  she  directed,  "we  shall  go  to  Melton 
to-morrow.  Wire  Haggis  to  have  the  Lodge  in  order, 
and  carriages  to  meet  the  midday  train.  I  daresay  I 
shall  take  a  few  people  down  with  me.  Let  George 
go  around  to  Tattershalls  at  once  and  make  an  ap- 
pointment for  rne  there  at  three  o'clock  this  afternoon. 
Look  out  my  habits  and  boots,  too,  Annette." 


340      THE     YELLOW    CRAYON 

Lady  Carey  leaned  back  in  her  chair  for  a  moment 
with  half-closed  eyes. 

"I  think,"  she  murmured,  "that  some  of  us  in  our 
youth  must  have  drunk  from  some  poisoned  cup,  some- 
thing which  turned  our  blood  into  quicksilver.  I  must 
live,  or  I  must  die.  I  must  have  excitement  every 
hour,  every  second,  or  break  down.  There  are  others 
too — many  others.  No  wonder  that  that  idiot  of  a 
man  in  Harley  Street  talked  to  me  gravely  about  my 
heart.  No  excitement.  A  quiet  life !  Bah !  .  .  . 
Such  wishy-washy  coffee  and  only  one  cigarette." 

She  lit  it  and  stood  up  on  the  hearthrug.  Her  eyes 
were  half  closed,  every  vestige  of  colour  had  left  her 
cheeks,  her  hand  was  pressed  hard  to  her  side.  For  a 
few  minutes  she  seemed  to  struggle  for  breath.  Then 
with  a  little  lurch  as  though  still  giddy,  she  stooped, 
and  picking  up  her  fallen  cigarette,  thrust  it  defiantly 
between  her  teeth. 

"Not  this  way,"  she  muttered.  "From  a  horse's 
back  if  I  can  with  the  air  rushing  by,  and  the  hot 
joy  of  it  in  one's  heart.  .  .  .  Only  I  hope  it 
won't  hurt  the  poor  old  gee  .  .  .  Come  in,  An- 
nette. What  a  time  you've  been,  child. 

***** 

The  Emperor  sent  for  Mr.  Sabin.  He  declined  to 
recognise  his  incognito. 

"Monsieur  le  Due,"  he  said,  "if  proof  of  your  story 
were  needed  it  is  here.  The  Prince  of  Saxe  Leinitzer 
has  ignored  my  summons.  He  has  fled  to  South 
'America." 

Mr.  Sabin  bowed. 


THE     YELLOW    CRAYON      341 

"A  most  interesting  country,"  he  murmured,  "for 
the  Prince." 

"You  yourself  are  free  to  go  when  and  where  you 
will.  You  need  no  longer  have  any  fears.  The  Order 
does  not  exist.  I  have  crushed  it." 

Mr'.  Sabin  bowed. 

"Your  Majesty,"  he  said,  "has  shown  exemplary 
wisdom." 

"From  its  inception,"  the  Emperor  said,  "I  believe 
that  the  idea  was  a  mistaken  one.  I  must  confess 
that  its  originality  pleased  me ;  my  calmer  reflections, 
however,  show  me  that  I  was  wrong.  It  is  not  for  the 
nobles  of  the  earth  to  copy  the  methods  of  socialists 
and  anarchists.  These  men  are  a  pest  upon  humanity, 
but  they  may  have  their  good  uses.  They  may  help  us 
to  govern  alertly,  vigorously,  always  with  our  eyes 
and  ears  strained  to  catch  the  signs  of  the  changing 
times.  Monsieur  le  Due,  should  you  decide  to  take 
up  your  residence  in  this  country  I  shall  at  all  times 
be  glad  to  receive  you.  But  your  future  is  entirely 
your  own." 

Mr.  Sabin  accepted  his  dismissal  from  audience,  and 
went  back  to  Lucille. 

"The  Prince,"  he  told  her,  "has  gone — to  South 
America.  The  Order  does  not  exist  any  longer.  Will 
you  dine  in  Vienna,  or  in  Frankfort?" 

She  held  out  her  arms. 

"You  wonderful  man !"  she  cried. 

FINIS. 


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